Mass Effect - Cascade
by Praetus
Summary: Stability has returned, of a sort. But even with the Reapers gone, resentment simmers. Along the backwater trade lands and near-abandoned colonies, powers with agendas plot to change the course of the galactic stage. With the Spectres now reorganised and Shepard no longer a front line Commander, a new crew steps in to follow the trail.
1. Chapter 1

Cascade

He felt the control column judder in his grip, the vibration rattling his bones even through the sealed suit. Through the shattered canopy he watched as another frigate blossomed in a silent rupture of flame, which flashed into non-existence in the old vacuum. Tracers of plasma lanced across the front of his craft as another strike fighter flashed past his view. Moments later a pair of insect-like Geth fighters blurred past, tracking the jinking fighter.

His view pinwheeled again and he tried to focus on the racked, flashing displays. His HUD was showing a spike in his heart rate and a rapidly decreasing level of oxygen - suit rupture most likely. The cockpit was compromised, so ejection was not on the Flux cards.

The view blurred and he realised that blood was seeping into his eyes.

What a cluster of cloaca. How had it come to this? So much potential, so much hope. He had trusted them to know what they were doing.

And still they went for the sword.

9 months prior.

The Turian councillor massaged her temples; it didn't help physiologically, but it was a habit she'd picked up from her human counterpart on the Council. It was soothing, mentally, more than anything. She blinked slowly and returned her gaze to the at the data pad in front of her, then glanced up at the figure standing opposite her, across her desk.

"And you're certain these reports are correct?"

"Afraid so ma'am."

She eyed the figure: another Turian, Sentus, Captain of the _Dilligence_ , a small scale recon frigate that had been tasked with patrols in the Terminus systems.

"Not very subtle. Sloppy, in fact."

"Mercs, we believe. However, it was too obvious, Councillor Rynae We believe it was a staged operation."

The Councillor flared her mandibles, the equivalent of a quirked eyebrow in human parlance.

"Some form of… false flag? Or a distraction? Surely if it was so obvious…?"

"Only obvious to us. The local trade traffic didn't notice them and even the militia patrols didn't spot them. We only were in the right place…"

The Captain trailed off. The Councillor snorted.

"You were in the right place because you went off your standard patrol path? And why was that, Captain?"

The real reason he was stood in front of her: his immediate superior had escalated this, which was strange for a Turian - if a junior office went off mission, it was usually deemed the fault of the superior for putting someone incompetent in a position beyond their skills. However, things had been vague - either the Turian was acting out of character or…

Or the man's superior wanted to pass something to her without going through regular channels. Which could take ages or be dismissed at some stage of the chain.

Which implied espionage.

And by escalating it as a disciplinary, it meant that this information wouldn't get lost. However, the fact they'd know to look for this implied something else. The Captain nodded.

"We received a… tip off."

Ah.

"Acting on information received, Captain? What form did this tip off come in? Distress beacon? Encrypted Spectre transmission? Highly trained Varren?"

The Captain managed a disgruntled harrumph - so he wasn't completely rigid, at least.

"Encrypted transmission, on a frequency only used for location confirmation transmission. I pinged us this location as an anomaly, but there was an attached packet of data as well."

"You have any idea where it came from?"

"I have my suspicions ma'am."

"Hmm. And so you decided to break protocol and your assigned route to investigate. And you reported your findings?"

"Ma'am, we were patrolling, not on parade; that implies not sticking to a standardised route…."

"But it also means being visible along regularly trafficked routes, with this sort of thing left to the appropriate agencies, surely? Going off plan can raise eyebrows and disrupts military planning."

He looked like he was about to slam his hands on the desk. She leaned back and watched him. To his credit he returned the gaze. Slowly he nodded.

" _Usually_ I would agree with you ma'am. But I think this would qualify as responding to intelligence received. And you have to shake up routine every now and then, as I'm sure you'd agree."

"Quite. And you reported this up? Of course you did, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"Yes. The Decanus-Major thought it would be best to pass this directly."

"So, back to the matter - a small merc frigate and several freighters, using the cover of a gas giant. But you think being too obvious?"

"Well, they didn't think so. But the manner of the transit - stealthy but not stealthy _enough_. It wouldn't be too hard to mask emissions much further. Plus that system is still quite well travelled - very risky. They had faked IFF markers as well, which they activated as soon as they spotted us."

"You think someone wanted them seen? Perhap the person who gave you the tip off."

"Yes."

"So the intelligence source could have been using this as a distraction? And you still followed the lead?"

"I think they wanted us to see it AND see that it was a distraction. As you can see from the report, the frigate escaped, but we got the cargo ships. And their cargo was interesting to say the least."

The Councillor flicked back through the report. I was strange: ships full to the brim, but the containers themselves having the most odd assortment of parts: vehicle subsystems, entertainment electronics, hab-structures, but only one type of wall frame, food packs all out-dated. A few crates of weapons, but not enough to justify that much "cover".

"For a smuggling trip, certainly doesn't look…. profitable."

"Quite - four freighters and a frigate, loaded with junk. We think the tonnage was there to spook sensors and any stations they were at. A cursory examination would've passed muster. But what's really interesting is what appears in the manifests proper."

Rynae clicked her mandibles and looked through the report again, then flicked back to what the troops had actually found.

"You're sure the entries haven't been mixed up?"

"Checked myself, Ma'am"

"But they openly listed in their logs that they were carrying Red dust and Geth plasma rifles?"

"And Reaper remnants."

"Why?"

"Double down: that sort of manifest would bring in every major military vessel in the area."

"But even a check would show it to be false…?"

The Captain nodded, "But it would be confusing enough that any local customs officials would freeze the scene quarantine and summon a larger force, locking down the sector. Which would be mean any immediate investigations would be isolated to both that region _and_ the company involved."

The Councillor leaned back and clacked her mandibles irritably.

"So, it was a distraction. So, why point you at it?"

"To show it for what it was. Now we know that there's something bigger out there _and_ that someone is looking to distract us."

"But this would only work, what, once?"

"It would. In that sector. Councillor, most of our patrols are still fairly isolated, with reports taking a while to be collated centrally. If this happened across several sectors, we'd maybe notice a patterns after five or six stops. And that is only if reports were even filed, or the manifests thoroughly checked. It could even be chalked up to malice from competitors. Meanwhile, it ties up resources. My guess is that these ships would've pinged up via a tip off to some credulous planet sec grunts, we'd have had a full scale alert."

"There is another possibility."

"Yes ma'am?"

"These could be genuine supplies."

"But… they're useless."

"True. But any official, after seeing the manifest and verifying it to be false would at worst impound the goods and release. At most, they'd probably wave it off as a glitch. And then the convoy gets left alone."

"A double bluff?"

"As the humans would say… or, if you want to think like a Salarian, it could be all of the above. Or, as you said: a glitch. Good tip off."

"We thought it would be."

"So, officially you have been chastised for deviation but no formal charges brought and no further action. This will not be recorded, so it was a matter of discretion that has found to 'be of tangible benefit to the hierarchy'. Captain, please return to your duties and continue to monitor for similar matters. Also, please ensure that this information is passed to C-Sec and the Fleet Duty officer, to watch for 'glitches'. Say it's part of our ongoing investigation into data-corruption across the new comm-buoys or something."

The Captain stood to attention and lifted his left arm upright, fist clenched, the Turian salute, then spun on his heel and marched out. Councillor Rynae sighed and glanced back down at the datapad.

Why had she thought of a triple cross? It was the job: you saw conspiracies everywhere, especially after that debacle with Admiral Xen. The races were on a knife edge: the greatest near-extinction event of the galaxy and suddenly it was business as usual: no shining future of promise, just fear and recriminations. It was making _her_ paranoid. That said, she wasn't of military stock, which surprised a lot of non-Turians - all that assumption that they hatched clutching an Aramax arms branded weapon. No, she was a medic by trade. And that meant she looked for symptoms, for things around the obvious signs: those were the result, but what was the _cause_? Straight laced military Turians found the thinking strange, but then again, they had tried and tested doctrines that had always worked.

Up until the Reapers. And that damn slaughter. Freedom paid in blood no amount of stitches, medi gel and other tired analogies could fully heal.

Speaking of which….

She rose and left her office, the door securing with a faint "ping". She would sweep for bugs again when she got back - no doubt the Salarians, Asari or Krogan would be waiting to replace the last batch she had found.

The walk to the new council chambers was a short one, several aides and ambassadors pausing to greet her briefly en route. One of the first orders of business when the new Council had been established was to make the Tower more accessible and visible. The theory being that form and function were one and the same - a Turian idea, all told, but one that the Humans seemed to embrace quite readily.

The various embassies were now all of the same size and spread evenly in a ring within the tower, rather than being housed in the Presidium, with the Council chamber now an open forum chamber in its own "mini-tower" within the central Citadel tower, which itself had spiderwebs of walkways intersecting across. It meant that the central tower was a lot more crowded, but it was a price worth paying for the visibility that Commander Shepard, Hero of The Harvest, had demanded. It also meant that there were more points of entry to the tower, something that was a nightmare for security, but lent a certain air of busyness to the place and gave a somewhat spiderweb quality as walkways from the multi-tiered embassies linked into the central council tower. The Presidium itself was still mainly divided by "embassy" ties, insofar as species tended to stick within quadrants for accommodation purposes, but still mingled along it's thoroughfares. The "tower" itself was now actually a hub at the centre of several other "Towers", making the centre of the Citadel look more like a spoked wheel. It meant that the Presidium now had multiple access routes in, further enhancing the idea of visibility and accessibility.

The Council "Tower" itself was a large forum within the tower, for people to observe proceedings, with the Council themselves situated in the centre, around a large circular table. A "Speaker" had been appointed and the responsibility rotated through species on a regular basis, to prevent bias.

Currently, the floor was being held by the Quarian Councillor, Zaal'Koris. The former Admiral had spent a little time on Rannoch before being nominated as Councillor. The other nominee had turned the offer down. Politically it made sense - there would've been a lot of contention around a Quarian who was married to a human, a rather important human at that. Questions of bias and cross-purposes.

Plus she had heard about the woman's skill with a shotgun and tendency to go for direct solutions.

Koris paused at her entry. He could be seen as a haughty, aloof man, at least when presenting - he was proud, occasionally pompous, certainly. But he wasn't arrogant. Koris, once you got to know him, was a thoughtful man, and not one prone to grandstanding. The former-Admiral inclined his head - it was still a bit surreal to see the Quarians with only half masks now - and continued speaking. He still had the Quarian propensity to gesture overmuch, a body-language overcompensation due to generations without recourse to facial expressions.

"And that, ladies, gentlemen and designations pending, is why we must still push for reconciliation. The asari made a mistake born of hubris and who among us can say that we haven't done the same. I would respectfully ask that the Krogan Coalition and Turian Hierarchy to consider removing their sanctions against both the Republic and the various non-aligned, asari majority worlds. We gain nothing from the ongoing bickering. We are still rebuilding. If we, the Quarians and the Geth, can put aside our differences and strive, then we hope you can do likewise. It took us three hundred years. Please, do not fall victim to the same mistakes."

Rynae had to force herself to maintaina straight face. Koris was a pragmatic man, straightforward at times. And that got him accused of being a dreamer. But this was a fairly direct appeal. She new the Primarch was under pressure from various blocs at home to maintain sanctions on the Asari - the feeling of betrayal on Palaven was tangible. Even as Thessia was rebuilding, the resentment had come on strong. And the Krogan were even more harsh - they had a very quid pro quo view - considering how the supposed superior races had treated them. In their view, the Turians had taken a beating, but had earned their respect by fighting alongside them and had "redeemed" themselves. The Salarians were a grey area to them - the breakaway systems from the Salarian Union were now fairly close allies with the Krogan Regime.

The other races were fairly divided - the Hanar, Elcor, Batarians and Volus pretty much were staying neutral, officially. But the Volus banks weren't lending as readily to the Republic and the other races, what presence they had, were spending their limited resources elsewhere. The two Salarian representatives (One for the Union, one for the Free states) were obviously at loggerheads. The Union was standing by the asari, mainly for traditional rather than pragmatic reasons.

The humans were being what they always were - obviously cautious but making waves unofficially - various free enterprise expeditions with relief convoys, limited archaeological studies alongside asari researchers. The Alliance were pretty black and white - they were on the side of holding the asari to account, but had less directly involved in the fight. They were, however, far more involved with the Turians and Krogan with regards to formulating political strategy, as they seemed to align more closely to their ways of thinking.

And of course the various factions not represented were swinging wildly. The shadow broker, it was rumoured, had managed to manipulate various companies to get more involved with the reconstruction of Thessia, but even that mysterious benefactor was keeping fairly hands off. It was, not to put too fine a point on it, a bit of a knife edge situation.

From her perspective she had seen what had happened on Thessia. Whilst the big obsession had been getting to Earth, supporting the humans with Crucible, the reality was that Thessia had been turned into slaughterhouse and maccabre mockery of what it had once been. The vermilion and purple glass towers turned into spires for the dead to be processed. Great, abandoned factories weaving flesh and bone into circuitry for the biotic machinery the Reapers had used; construction yards with half processed Destroyers being built.

Her position was that they needed help and the Primarch agreed. But the realities of politics meant they had to tread carefully. Glancing across the circular chamber she caught the eye of the human councillor. He offered her a subtle shrug. They were of one mind on this issue, she knew, but drawing too many clear lines of agreement was always one of those things in politics: be affable but never so closely aligned. It meant people got really upset and confused when you eventually and inevitably disagreed with your "ally". She pushed herself to her feet and inclined her head to the other councillors.

"The Turian Hierarchy does, in principle, support the view of the Quarian and Geth co-operative. We do agree with many in this chamber that certain actions undertaken by the Republic and Union were ill-thought. But they were not carried out in tandem or with any joint venture, not initially. And we can hardly hold a people culpable for the mistakes of its leadership. Especially when any reparations are, in some institutions, merely transferred away from the leaders in politically convenient ways," she saw the serene face of the Asari councillor studiously _not_ move. Oh good, another enemy made. That said, it was Irissa. She hated everyone. Ah well, points had to be driven home occasionally - the Asari weren't the "high culture" who did no wrong any more, "As such, the Hierarchy is moving to alleviate sanctions on certain industries. If you could consult your data drives, and omni-tools, you will see a list of businesses, enterprises and goods that no longer are embargoed."

The Free State Salarians were clearly not happy - whilst she sympathised with their political frustration, she also knew that elements of the States were making a nice profit trading expertise and goods that the Union had been prohibited from acting on. There was a hubbub as they began to gesticulate, but were brought to order by the Council Chair, a VI hologram. It had no real personality, but it was useful to have an utterly impartial, semi-intelligent arbitrator. It's form was of a Keeper - a symbol of it's maintenance of systems and quiet contribution.

"Thank you, Speaker. As I was saying, we in the Hierarchy feel that it is individuals who must be brought to task. And so, we would push for the Republic and Union to submit those responsible for decisions made for review by _this_ council and whatever courts are deemed necessary. As someone once said, in this Chamber - _let things be seen_. I would join my Quarian friend in asking the Krogan and humans, as well as other members, to relax their stance and begin the rebuilding."

The Krogan representative shifted in her chair. Wrex and Bakara were doing well in their political reshuffles - the females tended to much more long-termist. It wasn't a hard and fast rule, but there was a definite trend toward forward planning. She had replaced Kraal after the first few months. She was another Urdnot - Malar. One of the vassal clans that Wrex had absorbed to protect. Their loyalty was surprising, not something you associated with Krogan. But then again, the stereotype was always blood-thirsty mercenary, whereas when you really got to know them as a culture then you saw how nuanced they were.

Rynae watched Malar stand slowly. The woman's voice was a low rumble, with a faint lilt to it.

"The Salarians, some of my people believe, left us to die a slow death on the vine. The Turians, some still believe, wait to bombard our world. The asari, many still believe, sneer and pout at us from afar. But these are beliefs of the past. We know none of you are better than us. We live longer than the Asari. We can outfight a Turian. We can outplan the Salarian. The humans helped us, when none would. And then the Salarians helped us. And then the Turians. And even the asari. But it wasn't a person on a throne. It was those in the ditches, the trenches, the ones who dragged my brothers, sisters and children away from the fight. For their sake... we will lift the sanctions. We stand with the Quarian."

Rynae let out a quiet sigh of relief. There were quiet murmurs of assent around the table. Malar sent her own list of amended sanction decrees to the master list. The precise nature of the actual treaty and sanction debate would be negotiated by the Civil service with the broad strokes elements dictated by the Councillors. This was really a stage - a lot of this had been built to, by Koris it had to be said. But on the day you were never sure which way it would go and so you had to make pretty speeches and solid arguments, otherwise your negotiation could look like so much flarn.

The Speaker called the Council to order and they dispersed. She, quite by chance of course, ended up walking out alongside the human Councillor - Davies Charlestown. He'd survived the role of Councillor by seeming to be a quiet, put upon man. But the rest of the Council knew him for what he was - ramrod straight and tenacious in the way only someone who'd done tenure as an accountant and auditor could be. If he queried a policy then the recipient of his attention knew that every detail would be meticulously examined, dissected and its flaws pointed out. He was a bastard to play poker against too.

"Davies."

"Rynae. A pleasure. You want something?"

She glanced at him. His face was straight but their was a quirk to his mouth.

"Never a surprise with you is there, Charlestown."

"People tend towards predictability, even you. People only tend to talk to me socially if they want something. I think it has to do with the title 'Councillor'."

"A pain, isn't it?"

Davies snorted and nodded slightly. The pair settled into a gentle stroll towards one of the ornate fountains outside of the central chamber. Davies looked straight ahead and mused:

"So, you agree with raising the sanctions? Quite the switch. I know the Primarch is being pushed at home to nigh on blockade some Asari trade worlds."

Rynae sighed, "The usual military response - retribution, hard lines, expression of force. Mainly it was annoyance that we'd been blindsided - the Asari had intelligence that could've been really useful, could've staved off the destruction of much of the homeworld. But they 'got theirs', if you're into a scar for a scar."

"Hmm, true. I've seen the numbers. But this is politics - what's the angle?"

"We need to free up resources, focus on real threats, not punish cities and colonies. Our fleets are stretched. And it ties in nicely with a recent development I've had."

"Coincidental?"

"No, fortuitous. We've had issues with smuggling anyway, but usually going _into_ those territories. Now we're seeing a spike in certain goods coming out of the Terminus, Republic and Union territories. Strange manifests, double bluffing, masking. STG type actions but there's no rhyme or reason. Had a spike today - things marked as _Reaper_ on the manifest itself."

Davies stopped and turned to face her, his frown etched onto his features.

"What?"

"I know. Even inert, those artefacts still cause long term damage."

"Why are you telling me this. If Turian patrols are finding these..."

"Sharing information with a valued ally..."

"And...?"

Rynae huffed.

"The hierarchy has limitations to its doctrine. We have defined engagement rules. And we rely far too much on the STG for a lot of our espionage teams. I will be talking to the Primarch about this, but honestly, I am worried that there are elements of collaboration. Also, whilst we do deniable operations and are of course adept at tracking, I wasn't lying when I said we were stretched thin. Before I throw the 10th Reserve fleet and its Recon force into action, I need more than some quirky manifests."

"It'd be nice to have the Spectres around, wouldn't it?"

"From one point of view. But if you pick the wrong Spectre, a Vasir, perhaps, then we have issues."

"Good point. But a Shepard?"

"Human bias. And just one person."

"...maybe, but still. But I interrupted, continue."

"The replacements. I know Shepard has them operating."

"That's obvious - we get performance reviews and updates on a regular basis."

"Yes, but I know that you and Shepard have a cordial relationship. And I know the Alliance runs the Corsairs. And I can't raise this in front of the whole Council. Collaboration."

"And what makes you think I'm clean?"

"Because if you aren't, then we're all falling from the nest without a glider. You're devious, ruthless and occasionally cold. But you're straight as an arrow."

"Thank you, I think. So, you want me to ask the man who asked for open accountability from all aspects of the Council to run a shadow operation off the books to investigate, potentially, members of the Council, using potential Alliance resources?"

"Yes."

Davies grinned.

"I think I have just the team."


	2. Chapter 2 - Calling Cards

_**The alarm was a foghorn, cutting through every thought. Around him, flames flickered as another beam sliced through the hull, it's sparking, sickly yellow lance spearing the ship -**_ **his ship -** _ **as he stumbled across the bridge towards the cockpit. Smoke filled the air as light flashed across his vision. The alarm kept blaring, on and on, an insistent clarion call. But no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't get further along the corridor, the long neck of the ship, to where his pilot sat, helpless. The flashing light, the alarm, the resistance of his limbs. He flailed helplessly, as if something invisible was holding him in place. He felt his breath getting shorter, harder as around him the ship fell away to nothing except empty black void.**_

With a start, Shepard jerked awake. Light filtered through the half drawn blinds, revealing the early morning sea view beyond the window. By the bed his holo-clock bleeped a regular, insistent rhythm. taking a shuddering breath, he ran a hand through his close cropped hair.

 _Though I'd shaken the dreams. No more late night coffee sessions John._ He shrugged the lingering thoughts away and swung himself off the bed, wincing slightly as a pain spasmed in his knee. It faded quickly, but it was one of those things that, like the dreams, had stuck around. He didn't mind so much - yes, he could get himself a nice new limb grown, or some more cybernetics, but honestly it was a good reason to slow down. And he'd wait on the major surgery until he _really_ needed it.

For a moment he just sat and enjoyed the feeling of warm sunlight on his face, letting it wash the cobweb shadows away from his thoughts. Then with a grunt he stood and began headed for the shower.

His ablutions didn't take long - his mornings were still very much a strict routine, which were only disrupted by the presence of his wife. However, she was on duties in the Capitol which gave him some pleasant "admin time". Sitting at the bar in the kitchen he crunched down on some carefully labeled cereal (Most cupboards were divided into Dextro and Levo food items) and skimmed through his agenda items, the view outside through the floor length windows showing off a fantastic rocky beach view.

This week was good, as he got to spend it on Rannoch, which meant the traffic of visitors was pretty slim, limited mainly to local authority figures or geth representatives. And whilst he was here he usually had his comm lines blocked to prevent the deluge that usually nigh-on crashed his servers.

His and Tali's house was quite a spacious affair, all tiers built into a cliff, with expansive windows and internal water features. Truth told they didn't use all of it as well as they should - both far too used to small cabins and economised space. But the geth were rather creative at construction when they got down to it. It wasn't ostentatious but made good use of light - half the house was primarily a series of windows overlooking the ocean.

The kitchen itself was a large, galley like affair with a bar in the centre, with a set of steps beyond it leading down to a dining area, where the window overlooked the sea, a set of french doors opening out onto another set of stairs that led to a patio cum balcony. Off to one side a door led through to a more secluded living space, divided into the open sitting room with the view and an adjacent "snug" which overlooked onto the plains beyond.

Next to the door was one of several small projectors, which lit up like an omni-tool, displaying an incoming call. Shepard glanced up and accepted the call with a tap of his own omni tool. A familiar face lit up the screen, like a second sunrise.

"Hey you. Checking to make sure I'm awake?"

" _More like that you haven't run of on some galaxy spanning adventure without the only reliable engineer you know."_

"And, hey, Adams would be hurt."

" _Good point. The only reliable engineer you're married to."_

"Thank you. How's the quorum?"

" _The usual - lots of bickering over land rights and ecological matters. The geth are amazingly patient. Honestly though, could really do with being back there."_

Shepard chuckled, "No disagreement here." He couldn't help but grin - it was still strange and brilliant, to see her without the suit. Most Quarians stuck with the hoods, out of tradition, but they were now able to get by with breather masks for the most part. Tali was pretty much already there. She sported her usual attire but now with a transparent breather and broader hood. She grinned.

" _You're staring again."_

"Can you blame me?"

Tali blushed, but her grin quirked, along with an arched eyebrow - she was getting very good with the facial expressions now.

" _True, you are very lucky. And right now, I REALLY wish I was home,"_ she sighed, " _But there is a more formal reason I called."_

"Oh, that bodes well." Shepard took another bite of cereal, "So, Quarian business?"

" _No. Thanks to you doing your 'out of office' routine, your lovely Alliance friends keep messaging me. Have I been downgraded to you PA? Have you replaced me with some sort of Vorcha swimwear model?"_

Tali did a mock glare and pout which Shepard snorted at. _Really_ good at the facial expressions. For a species that spent so much time using over exaggerated body language to make up for obscuring visors and muffled voices, they adapted well.

"As if. You have a shotgun, as you constantly remind everyone. And be nice, the Alliance have done well by me."

" _They locked. You. Up. And ignored you. And nearly killed you a few times. Excuse me if I still find that annoying. But yes, fine,_ some _of them are ok. Anyway, it's the human Councillor, he's messaged me asking to be put through to you. I swear, it's like they forget I was even there to fight Sovereign…"_

"Thank you Tali. I will make it up to you later. You going to be back this evening?"

" _I'll make a point of it. Even if I have to hack a mock up hologram of me to stand in making small talk about.. things. Civil reconstruction. Cultural planning. Doilies. I swear, we beat the Collectors but it seems Committees are my real bane. But if you're promising favours, maybe I'll field a few more random calls… see what I can rack up. See you later, Saera."_

With a wink she signed off. Ok, the wink was a bit much. But still. Idly Shepard flipped through the contacts list and brought up the human Councillor's details. It was a strange relationship he had now - he was primarily a resident on Rannoch, and was, ostensibly, the human ambassador to the Quarians. He had been, initially, the only man they'd accept. There was another human who held the role - Jenna Acherian or something like that. She was based in the Capitol, Rayya. The liveship had taken its name from the ancient City, which in turn had been preserved by the geth during the Quarian's long absence.

But Shepard was an anomaly - he found the situation uncomfortable and, at times, really annoying. Officially he was a retired Admiral of the Alliance Navy; he had a semi-official role as the head of the Reformed Corps of Reconnaissance (Which was what he'd reorganised the Spectre's into) and he was a resident (One of the few Aliens as well) of Rannoch.

Unofficially he was seen as a key spokesman on many issues and also seen as an indirect route to the Shadow Broker network. Any planet he stayed on for a prolonged period inevitably came under scrutiny and various local power players thought they needed to "court" him. It was why he spent much of his time either on the Citadel (fairly neutral), Rannoch (Where the Quarians left him alone, as they spent most of their adoration on Tali) or Inta'sei - which had a population of either 0 or 2. It was a nice isolated place that one, when he and Tali needed some quiet.

But the problem with being this vague, grey area person meant that he was still seen as a problem solver. By _everyone_. That had its uses, but it was a key reason he tried to stay out of view and screened all his calls. In all honest, he found that that had actually made things worse, at least in the short term.

With a sigh he brought up his omni tool and pinged a message to Davies - he actually quite liked the man - far less obnoxious than Udina, but still a politician. Likely the message to Tali had only just got to her after meetings, so, factoring in time delay, zone differences and what not, he had some time to kill before the call. As an afterthought, he pinged Liara, in case she had a heads up on things. It always paid to know more than the people calling you, he'd learned.

Damn, he was starting to _think_ like a politician now. He chuckled to himself at the thought. Well, time enough to brace for the inevitable.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Shepard was sat in his and Tali's hideaway cum office, which was positioned towards the cliff-side of the house. It was a cellar-room, built into the rock itself and was fairly spartan - there was a desk, several bookshelves holding both human Quarian books and a long settee. In one corner sat a holo projector for a quantum communicator (which he'd insisted on having - he may not have liked people chasing _him_ but it was useful to have a device like that if he needed to find someone else).

Shepard sat behind the desk leaning back whilst Liara, speaking from the terminal in front of him, ran through some possibilities.

" _Could be any number of potential lines of inquiry Shepard. I do know that Charlestown was talking with the Turian ambassador yesterday; but he also recently aligned vocally with the Quarians and Turians on the matter of sanctions against the Asari Republic and Salarian Union."_

"I saw an email about that. Usual long winded briefing, but the bullet points make for interesting reading. Nothing else? I thought you had everything covered?"

" _Whilst I am very good at my job, I am not omniscient. Nor is my network infallible - the new Council, under your guidance I might add, has some formidable security layering. The Councillors are also very stringent on their espionage sweeps and bribing officials sets a poor precedent for what we want to build. So, I am limited on Citadel data."_

"Ironic isn't it? The more we improve things, the less effective we become until we actually need to _be_ effective. Anything else unusual that could have flagged?"

" _Many things. But the list could be exhaustive - the Turians are monitoring everything from unsanctioned biotic training to smuggling routes, to slaver raids and small skirmishes between independant colonies. The Alliance is dealing with trouble on the homefront, some immigrant issues to do with alien races and is also having a renewed issue with AI rights. That's just the headlines, Shepard."_

"Well, stay on the line. Saves me having to write it all up for later anyway plus you get it all live."

Liara nodded, then went mute. Shepard looked up as a comm request pinged into the QEC and he accepted, pushing himself out of his chair to go and stand in front of the projector. A moment passed and a faintly transparent, blue tinted figure appeared. Davies smiled and inclined his head slightly.

" _Admiral Shepard. Thank you for taking the time. I know your schedule is notoriously fraught."_

Shepard let the rank slide - he was retired, but it was an honorific. Hard to shift those. "Not a problem, Councillor Davies. You have me at one of my quiet moments. How's the viper's nest treating you?"

" _Oh they're not so bad once you learn how to draw poison. I admit, it has been tense, what with the sanctions negotiations and the Batarian remnant issues. But we've built good relations with the Krogan and cemented our connections with the Turians and several smaller stakeholder races. The Alliance is loathe to scupper those."_

"So we leave the Asari out to dry?"

" _Not quite. We tread carefully. We act as peacemaker. You aren't as black and white as that Shepard, I know that. The Turians have been in space longer than us, have a longer history with the Asari than us - if we step in, well, we insult both sides. But we have steered everyone away from full military blockades and full scale reparation seizures."_

"I didn't realise the Krogan were…"

" _No, that was from the Volus. And the Turians. They were set on occupying Thessia. Well the Volus were."_

Shepard blinked and glanced back to the terminal where Liara sat silently. From here he couldn't see her face. No doubt she was factoring that into her various intelligence models, if she wasn't aware of it already.

"Interesting. So, war averted?"

" _Mainly hot air and anger. Strangely, once the Reapers were down, there was a lot of bile still to be expelled. But we're improving. The Council is doing better, we're talking more at least. Credit to you on that one."_

"Hmm, well. I'm just one man Councillor. If there wasn't a desire for change I don't know if it would've happened."

" _We are where we are Shepard; just be thankful we're up currently. And it's about staying up I wanted to talk to you. Thanks to our relations with the Turians, I am occasionally privy to some interesting internal reports of theirs."_

"We aren't sharing everything? I thought after the Normandy's construction we were practically the same Navy."

" _Inter service politics, Alliance stuffiness and Turian doctrinal adherence means we will never have an entirely smooth command structure, but we do, for the most part, share information. However, some of their internal patrols and fleet movements they, naturally, keep secret or don't flag to other races."_

Shepard shrugged - standard, really. He was being a little facetious. Even allies moved their pieces around with some subtly in case your allies turned out to not be… well, your allies anymore.

"So what's so important that the Turians dragged you in? And why the Alliance?"

" _Rynae doesn't want this official. She has suspicions about a few strange shipping manifests. Could be nothing, could be something just related to the usual rebuild of criminal syndication. But it doesn't fit the patterns - it's too much like goading, or enticement. I've forwarded you the files she's given me. If she came to you direct, in your capacity as Chief Inspector it'd be noticeable and could put the wind up any political influencer's who may be involved."_

"You think someone on the Council's involved?"

" _As a group, we do have form for conspiracy. You've seen the archives. You were involved with that business Xen,"_ Shepard nodded and gestured for Davies to continue, " _So, I'm approaching you in my capacity as human Councillor talking to a former member of the Alliance. I know that every other Councillor has their spies and tracking systems. Especially the Salarians. So, this will be flagged as official Alliance business."_

Shepard frowned and paced over to the settee where he sat down.

"Whilst I understand the need, this flies against everything we've been working at - transparency, accountability, integrity. I've worked hard to bring practices into the light. But you want things to stay in the shadows. Just this once? What about next time? Do I then go dark again, as a favour?"

Charlestown snorted and arched an eyebrow.

" _Udina's briefing notes did say you have a flair for drama,"_ Shepard didn't have to see his terminal to know Liara would be grinning. He cocked his head and returned Davies' stare, " _But you know that the reality of politics and warfare is that you don't telegraph every move in the name of gentlemanly rules. No, what we want is subtlety during the investigation with a full and frank airing of details afterwards."_

Shepard looked impressed, and nodded his head, "You're saying the right things Davies. Glad you've done your reading as well," he glanced at his omni-tool and quickly flicked through the reports from the Turians, "So, you need an investigation team on site. Why me though, why not hire some mercs, or go via the Shadow Broker direct?"

" _Because, as you say, that'd not exactly be in the light. How could we guarantee the mercs would provide honest and viable data? The Shadow Broker could also be involved. And yes, we know you are heavily involved with them, but still, the Broker's stock in trade is information - if we get it, then it opens us up to an unknown third party."_

Whilst Shepard trusted Liara, he wondered what she'd make of this view of her. SHe had made the Brokers network that little bit more ethical, but it was just as ruthless in terms of stripping information from across the galaxy. And she seemed in no hurry to put it aside - mainly because if the Broker vanished, who would take its place? But like all of those things to do with power, there was that wavering on the knife edge.

Kaidan seemed to be keeping her pretty honest though. And a lot less stressed and therefore likely to go all psychotic matriarch. He gestured for Davies to continue.

" _And finally, we need spectre oversight, to give the investigation some credence. Naturally, if there are councillors involved, the accusations will be about you overstepping your remit, or having an agenda. This way, we can show we actioned the investigation via yourself and you handled it without bias. It wasn't something you instigated with an agenda. Just the initial phase needs to be quiet. We can go public with members as we eliminate them from the investigation."_

Shepard nodded, "And how do I know you're not involved?"

Charlestown shrugged, " _You don't. This data is from the Turians. They'd know if I hadn't contacted you. So if I AM involved, I'd be damned either way. But I will say that I'm not, for what it's worth. The information and transit data should bear out the lack of Turian and Alliance involvement. How you manage things is down to you, but if I may be so bold, might I recommend the Breakers?"_

Shepard grinned.

"They're part of your Corsair group aren't they?"

" _They're a subset of **your** Spectre restructure. The Alliance doesn't own the Corsairs, you know that." _ Davies had the decency to offer a faint smile - the Corsairs were essentially privateers that had been used to harry Batarian slavers whilst allowing the human Alliance to keep their hands clean. Of course, they were unpredictable, as many of the Alliances hands of agencies ended up being. the worst had been Cerberus. Jacob had been a member of the Corsairs and as a whole they were pretty decent.

After the battle above Earth and the restructure of the Spectres, Shepard had appropriated a few cast offs from the various races into a sort of portfolio of "Retained specialists" - they weren't Spectres, who were becoming more command and control agents - they were the teams that the Spectres deployed with, much like he had.

On the books, these teams and individuals still worked for whomever they wanted, but they knew they had a permanent contract with the Spectres and thus a steady paycheck if they needed it. They were also expected to, within reason, prioritise Council related activity.

After all - you only had a small number of Spectres and they were often a bit of a nuclear option. Why use that when sometimes you just needed a really good negotiator or a crack sniper?

"Good idea. I will contact their agent and make the necessary arrangements. We'll keep Spectre involvement light until we know there's a need for that level of authority."

" _Understood. I know you will, but please open an official file on this. If you need anything then I or Rynae are available."_

"Thank you Councillor. Good afternoon."

" _Good night Shepard."_

The QEC faded out and Shepard stood and paced over to his other terminal. Liara came off mute.

" _Interesting. Looking at this data, it does seems odd. I can see why they want it looked at."_

"It could just be glitchy manifests."

" _Potentially - which is why the Turians haven't gone in with everything they have to check the routes. It is certainly worth investigating. I will have my people check the usual avenues. And our mutual friend?"_

"I'll give her a call. I have a feeling her people are on task somewhere and she usually likes to be in the vicinity."

" _Never one for a quiet life. I don't know how Garrus copes."_

"Edging towards a bit of hypocrisy there Liara?"

" _Good point Shepard. I will collate and come back as soon as I have something."_

And with that she was gone. Shepard flicked through his contacts until he found the one he was after.

Kasumi Vakarian.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Crew

"Shitshitshiiiiit."

Klin pounded across the chalky soil, the incline of the ground giving him some more accelerator. Ahead, there was a line where the ground seemed to not quite align - a steeper drop. A slender figure overtook him sprinting for the slope ahead. Teel'Shuran was uttering a long winded quarian epithet as he booked along. Klin pushed harder as _something_ bellowed behind them. There was the sound of splintering stone and Klin heard the shrapnel bounce of his armour's cowl.

The pair dove over the lip of the incline and hit loose gravel. The half slid, half fell down the hill. A few moments later the slope-face above them exploded as a serpentine creature smashed out of the ground. Chalk dust and stone rained around the pair. Klin reached out and grabbed the smaller quarian and dragged him to the left, where the pair scrambled off. They didn't break pace as they hit the more level ground of the valley below.

Around them, the scenery was sparse, with just boulders and scrub to speak of as cover. They continued to run. Behind them, the dust cleared enough to show a worm like creature, all tendrils and gaping, flapped mouth, writhing from the hole it had created in the incline.

"Damn threshers. Whose idea was this?"

"Oh you know…."

Teel growled as he powered along, "I swear, she has a thing for big serpent like things. Why. Why did we think this was a good idea."

"Because it's FUN!" Klin roared with joy and dragged the protesting quarian along. The thresher made a warbling noise and opened its maw, drawing itself up to vomit a glob of corrosive spit. A sudden explosion to its flank made it shriek and writhe, before pulling back into its hole.

"Oh Keelah, there he is, right on time."

A small vehicle sat on a ridge a couple of hundred metres away - it was essentially a stripped down MAKO, open topped. The pair reached it in record time and clambered in. The human driver offered them a curt nod.

"Cutting it fine, boss man."

"Think I judged it fine, Klin. You can use the exercise. You alright Teel?"

"Yeah, thanks LT."

Dan Sharrocks nodded again then thumbed towards the turret, a pintle mounted rotary cannon and mass driver in one. Klin chuckled deep in his throat and took hold of the grips, swivelling the weapon to test it. Dan blinked and thumbed a switch in front of him to de-link the turret from his visor.

"All yours lad. Now, we've got a delivery to make."

He gunned the engine and spun the vehicle 180 degrees and slammed it forward. Teel sagged in his seat, then hefted his rifle, looking out. He gasped and pointed.

"Target 9 o'clock. Damn it's fast."

Sharrocks grunted and swerved. To their left, the thresher broke ground and spat. A stream of corrosive bile scorched the soil near them, but missed.

"Nay bad a specimen. Klin, keep the bugger off us as best you can. Within reason. Don't need to cause a mess."

The vehicle powered across the bumpy terrain, towards a low collection of artificial constructions - containers and a makeshift landing pad. The small encampment was set on a narrow sliver of land that jutted out from the plateau that the trio were currently across. In the distance, in the harsh light of the planet, similar mesa formations could be seen: the product of some ancient glacial movements. Another splash of noxious green sizzled through a boulder ahead of them. Sharrocks grimaced.

"Clever bugger. Trying to lead its shots."

"They never used to do that," growled Klin. He let out a rolling laugh and fired a blast from the cannon, rocking the MAKO with the recoil; a rock formation shattered into pieces, showering the surfaced thresher with sharp fragments. It squealed again and dove back into the ground, smashing into view again like a wave on their flank, before sinking back into the soil

"Steady Klin, let it keep pace."

The Krogan chuckled again, "'s why I hit the rock, boss."

Sharrocks squinted ahead of them and swore, then yanked hard on the steering column. The thresher erupted into view ahead of them, it's flanks rippling.

"Shit! Klin!"

Klin growled and swung the turret firing a mass rocket straight into the beast's' face. It shrieked again, but the acid sprayed mostly harmlessly into the air as it reared up. Droplets splashed against the hull, sizzling on the metal. Teel lunged forward, unhooking an extinguisher from a harness, blasting at the sizzling metal with a liberal amount of foam. it was laced with omnigel, to counter the various mucus and acids currently trying to digest their vehicle's armour. Sharrocks pulled the buggy in a large, juddering, loop around the thrashing beast and slammed the accelerator, barreling the MAKO towards the jutting escarpment of land.

The thresher wasn't so easily deterred and lunged into the ground after them. Teel stared, slack jawed.

"How does it _move_ like that? The rock around here is heavy calcium deposits. It's _rock_. I mean, soil, _maybe_ , but small worms take ages to move through things. How is a fifty tonne worm doing that?"

"We live in a galaxy where you fought giant spaceships that wanted to eat you and turn you into mushy computer bits," Klin grinned at his friend, "And the child of Kalros bothers you?"

The quarian shrugged; he was still in a full enviro-suit, so his grimace wasn't exactly visible. Dan stayed silent and aimed for the edge of the camp, whilst keying the comms, the vehicle apaprently managing to find every pothold and divet in the ground.

"Rogila, hope you're ready. I got one shot."

" _Shame it's not me down there then. You'd be certain."_

"Rogila."

" _You know you can rely on me, hun. Just… don't miss, ok?"_

Klin looked ahead.

"Uh, boss. Where's the ship?"

"Well, we can't exactly have a ship sat whilst we bring our goods into the LZ now can we?"

Klin and Teel shared a glance, then both flung themselves to the deck of the vehicle and braced themselves.

Dan angled the vehicle towards the landing pad, which had not only a ramp leading up to it, but an apparent uplift to its edge. The sounds of splintering stone behind them indicated that the Thresher was gaining.

Klin grinned madly whilst Teel closed his eyes.

"Ohhh shiiiiiiiii-"

The buggy was suddenly airborne. There was a shriek as the thresher pursuing them ran smack into a buried plate of steel, concleaed in the centre of camp. Sharrocks triggered the mass effect thrusters to maintain, temporarily, their momentum as, suddenly, a ship rose in front of them, angling itself sharply to align an open cargo door. The buggy seemed to float for a moment, then gravity noticed what was happening and yanked hard. The vehicle dipped, but the thrusters and momentum meant they slid, almost neatly into the cargo hold of the ship. The buggy skidded and slammed, hard, into a bulkhead.

Sharrocks flicked his comm again.

"Aboard, punch it."

The ship lurched as it corrected itself, the cargo door sliding shut with a reassuring clang. Dan flicked up his omni tool and patched into the external cameras.

"C'mon… work."

On the small mesa below, things seemed still. The ship came around low to face the mini plateau. All seemed quiet, then with a fountain of dirt, the thresher erupted forth. It was clearly hurt, with traced lines of luminous blood leaking from numerous wounds. Dan grinned, almost wolfishly. As the creature waved from side to side, regarding this strange, floating metal beast, there were several flashes behind it. The arch earth bridge connecting the escarpment and the plateau practically dissolved in a series of explosions. Around the monster came the hum of fields coming to live, as a faint blue cylinder lit up around it, or rather, around a large area around it. Sharrocks sagged.

"Brilliant. Target secure. Let the boss lady know the package is ready for pickup."

" _Nicely done hun. You sure that it can't just dig down?"_

"Pretty sure. Watch."

The monster seemed aware that its options were limited and sunk from view. The fields rippled as they were clearly tested below the surface. Then the ground erupted again as the monster arose and shrieked.

" _Nice. You said you had the cage set up, but a wall isn't doing_ that."

"Those sonic pulses - Kas sent them over with the briefing, remember? Good way to lure them in. Well, also a good way to keep them at bay, right Klin?"

"Yeah, certain frequencies make 'em happy, hungry or real upset."

"Got Teel to amp them up and the miners set them up at the base of the camp before they bugged out."

" _Huh, stuck it in there with the shield emitters. And here was me thinking you'd just rigged it to blow in case the shields didn't hold."_

"Oh I did that too. After London, no firepower is too much."

" _Hell yeah"._

Klin and Teel shared a glance.

"Hell yeah."

Sharrocks snorted, then with a groan unbuckled himself, "Right, de-kit, stow it and we'll RV in the briefing room in ten. Rogila, do a quick scan and set us down near the base. Just in case baby thresher there has a friend."

Teel paused, "That thing's a _baby_?"

"Juvenile, probably crashed here, maybe about fifty years ago. Yeah, why?"

"They get bigger?!"

Klin laughed, "Oh buddy, I got a story for you…"

The ship rumbled as Rogila brought it around to land. As the other two trudged towards the narrow hatch, Sharrocks gunned the buggy to life and reversed it into a better position, then engaged the docking clamps. Another mission down. Hopefully enough to pay for the fuel filter refit and some improvement on the stabilisers. He allowed himself a little grin. Capturing a thresher - that'd be one for the Regimental Association next time. With a wince for his bruised ribs, he hopped out of the buggy and trudged after his "lads".

Ten minutes later, they were assembled in the supposed briefing room. Truth told, it was the rec room. Which was also the kitchen. Through a hatch were the "living" quarters, two rooms with bunks, along with the shower facilities and a private terminal room. All these were arrayed along a spinal corridor that led into the rec room and up to the cockpit. The rec room had the culinary bits on one side, with a bolted in table a wall-mounted bench on one side and a few chairs on the other.

The ship itself was an old Turian and Salarian design, mainly for civilian use by prospectors. The cargo hold below them held the buggy and enough room for several supplies. They had kept the gunmetal grey decor. A monitor was mounted on the wall adjacent to the hatch to the cockpit.

Rogila was lounging on one of the sofas, smoking a cigarette. She'd taken to the human habit, For a Batarian, she was remarkably relaxed or at least gave the appearance of being.

Klin was preparing something large and probably primarily meat based at the cooking station. Teel was hunched in one of the chairs, lost in thought. Dan emerged from the quarters area and looked at them.

"Good job guys. Just got a ping from ' Sumi that the client is moving to retrieve. We got a twofer this time - the mining team for clearing the site and Sirta wants the Thresher to study."

Rogila frowned with her upper brows, "They're going to dice the thing up?"

"Well, it's that or we throw it back where we found it."

She shrugged, "Not a good way to go, being poked by needles. It didn't ask to land here."

"Impression I got was they wanted to do a bit more in depth study of the lifecycle. Something about not knowing enough about the species."

Teel looked up and laughed. He had changed into his "indoor" suit - looser and with just a face mask, "Because taking an incredibly hostile species and sticking it in a small container in a nice place will surely not backfire in any way." He saw their expressions, "What? It never does. Do you guys not watch movies?"

Dan shook his head, "Well, if it does, it means another job potentially. We aren't here to solve the galaxy's problems, not all the time. But we can help out and keep a roof over our heads."

Urdnot Klin turned around , holding what looked like a large sausage in his hands. He chomped down on the lump of meaty gristle and made a contented noise, "Hey, keeping busy, that's what we do. So what's the take sir?"

Dan still felt a little bit uncomfortable with the ranking, but then again he was the registered Captain. He didn't hold an Alliance rank anymore. Strange, he'd always thought he'd be career military and now look at him. Gentleman of fortune or something.

"With repairs and ammo, and factoring in the target, we're up 95,000 from the colony and 100,000 from Sirta for live capture of a Thresher. So not too bad. Factoring in 'Sumi's cut, and after we split pay we've got about an extra 75k to play with. Agree contractual split, we'll factor Sirta in as a bonus, plus use it to cover berthing fees and maybe an upgrade."

The other three shared grins. Not a bad haul. But it was feast and famine - they didn't take the nastier jobs and were definitely avoiding the usual bodyguarding duty. But the market was tightening as things were improving across the sectors.

"Good news as well, Kasumi has an update for us on something else, so could keep us busy. So, get some rack time. We'll be spaceborne in a few hours, whilst we sort comms and finalise things with the colonists and guarantee pickup from Sirta. Well done everyone. Again, ye make me proud."

Teel stood and headed back towards the cabins, whilst Klin continued munching. Dan climbed the steep stairway into the cockpit and sunk into the communication chair. The "bridge" wasn't huge, but had enough space for three positions - at the fore the pilot's chair, with haptic and holo displays, set a little lower in the cockpit. Set to the right and a little back was the co-pilot chair and gunnery position. And at the rear, at a ninety degree angle was the comm station, The entry to the cockpit was adjacent to the comm station, and directly behind the co-pilot chair. it was a little cosy. but still with enough room to manoeuvre around.

The former Lieutenant plonked himself into the comm chair and picked up the visor that was plugged into the terminal. As soon as he lifted it from its cradle, the terminal sprang to life, streaming data through the headset and onto the projected screens in front of him - transactions, confirmation details and co-ordinates. He'd gotten the initial data on his personal terminal but this felt more like his "office". He felt something behind him and glanced up. Rogila grinned down at him, her sharp teeth glinting in the orange light. She leaned down and rested her arms on the back of the chair.

"One of the weirder missions."

"Including the slog through the London underground?"

"That I refuse to count - nothing counts against _that_. Clean slate now we're out here. So what's the sneak-thief got for us?"

"Looks like a bit of a search op. Strange though - not flush on details and just a set of co-ordinates for an initial meet."

Rogila huffed, "Not like her to keep us in the dark. She gives us all the angles."

"Well, no rush, we've got five hours before Sirta rock up. Then dust off and we'll head for the system waystation, then relay it to… the Caleston Rift. RV co-ordinates indicate we're heading to the Typhon system. Even after that, we'll need prep time at one of the Terminus stations."

"Omega?"

"Nah, we can probably head to a refuel and resupply station in Hawking Eta. We'll see what Kasumi has first, as that will impact the choice. Gotta watch out fuel though."

"Ah, the quarian drives Teel got us seem to be holding up well."

"Yeah, gotta hand it to the lad, he knows how to squeeze the juice out of every bit of that core."

"So, we've got some time to spare?"

He glanced up at her and grinned, "Oh aye. And what did you have in mind?"

The batarian woman shrugged nonchalantly, "Weapon cleaning. Your gear needs some maintenance."

He chuckled and deactivated the terminal, wincing slightly as he rose. She arched her upper brows, but he waved away her concern, "Just a bruised rib. My parking could do with some improvement."

"Oh, so you are learning to tell jokes? Never thought I'd see the day."

"Ach, away an bile yer heid, ya wee Herry,"

Rogila snorted again and shook her head, then headed back down into the bowels of their ship. But not before making a rather suggestive gesture. He checked the system was idling and then followed. Squad leader he may be, but he was only human...

* * *

Ten hours later their Corvette, aptly named the _Chancer,_ was drifting in orbit of Aite. Rogila was in the pilot's seat and Klin firmly planted in the gunner position. Teel was in the engine room, below them - the drive was, weirdly, set beneath the cabin deck, accessible via the cargo bay and an access hatch set into an alcove in the stairway to the cockpit.

The Corvette itself was a private human design - the engine core filtering up to a pair of nacelles that stuck out like wings from amidships, which could be independently angled, along with a pair of fixed propulsion jets to the rear, just above and to the side of the cargo access hatch.. Two turrets, mounted on the dorsal and belly of the vessel, coupled with a small missile pod a fore-facing cannon made it a bit of a bantam fighter. They'd never had to get into a straight up ship fight, but the gear was useful for ground support.

The ship itself was fairly squat and looked more turian in design than human, but still resembled some sort of drop ship from the old style science fiction movies that Dan remembered watching with his grandfather.

Sharrocks himself was at the comm terminal, which also doubled as the navigation station. So far, he could see the usual trade traffic and odd military patrol - this far out, things weren't too busy. That said, Aite was becoming a bit more of a hub. During the war, the Reapers had forcibly moved one of the planet's moons - notably, the one that was in chronic descent - and had re-stabilised its orbit. Clearly, they had planned on using the world for something, potentially post-harvest. Whatever that plan had been was now lost.

With the imminent (Or rather, century forecast) threat of planetary loss gone, Aite had re-opened as a viable colonisation and research destination. Several areas of the planet were marked as restricted by the Council for reasons unknown. All the public knew was that the geth had taken a particular interest in ensuring those sites were sealed. Now, the capital had been re-established at Adrasteia and a functional planetary council had been formed. It was more a trade body than anything else, but Aite was no longer _quite_ the wild frontier it had once been, especially now that the quarian and geth were operating as the main landlords of this part of space.

They'd been sat in orbit at the designated lagrange coordinates for forty minutes now, waiting for confirmation of the beacon ping they'd been told to send out. Rogila flexed her arms into a stretch and Dan caught himself admiring the curve of her shoulders. Their gear maintenance session had been very productive. They'd certainly got it all sorted in record time.

Strange how things changed - from squad leader to… whatever he was now. The pilot turned and looked at him.

"Anything boss?"

He leaned back in the chair and ran a hand through his cropped hair, "Not yet. Wait..."

He frowned at his display then turned to Klin, "Got some contacts, three ships, just heading into range. Sensors indicate probably fighter class."

The Krogan checked his own readouts to corroborate the readings and gave a thumbs up "Yeah boss, three ships, geth fighters by the look of it. they're on line toward us."

Dan nodded, noting the three contacts, just angling across the planetary terminal. He nodded to Rogila, "Best warm the thrusters up."

Klin growled, "We've been lased."

Dan sighed - the risks of staying static _plus_ potentially tangling with an opponent which had reaction times down to milliseconds. And no need to worry about things like user / machine interfaces. The ship vibrated as Rogila gunned the engines and angled the ship to face the three interceptors.

A ping chimed on the comm - Sharrocks flicked the comm-link to live. A stream of data sprawled across the terminal then set to a simulacra of a face - well, the flashlight head of a geth.

" _Welcome, Dan Sharrocks, Lieutenant, Retired. Please form up with Sigma flight and proceed to co-ordinates designated. A landing pad has been prepared. Do not deviate from the path - we do not wish unwarranted attention."_

Dan noted that other signals were being transmitted on a wide band , but not _at_ them. But the messages seemed addressed to them - orders to stand down, surrender their vessel, not to resist.

"And if we refuse?"

" _Then Vakarian Agent will be upset that we were unable to secure you passage and will likely refuse payment."_

"You've got Kasumi?"

" _We do not understand your query. We have been asked to bring you to a designated point. Vakarian Agent…. Kasumi will meet you there."_

"Then why the mixed messages."

" _For protection."_

Like talking to a bundle of knots. Dan sighed, then turned to Rogila, "It's alright lass. The geth should be transmitting coordinates to the us. Patch them into the computer and we'll form up."

"Understood… sir."

She was uneasy. They'd been rescued by the geth on Earth, after encountering what was left of a Reaper. It was still strange though, meeting with the machine-people. They were like children in some ways - straightforward and interested, but also frighteningly perceptive. He heard Klin shift in his seat.

"Don't worry big man. I'm sure if it all goes wrong, you'll be able to take a few of the buggers with ye."

The Krogan chuckled, his purple crested head bobbing with the laugh, "You know me boss."

On the holo-display he saw the three insect like fighters take station around their ship. So, protection. But from who? The vessel vibrated again as the engines roared to life and they began their descent. Teel's head appeared at the hatch way. He looked non-plussed.

"Oh good. Geth. We in trouble?"

"Not yet. You still got some EMP grenades stashed though?"

"Does a Varren eat its own dead packmates?"

"Umm."

Klin looked over, "Only if they can't find a Vorcha first."

"Well, good. Keep 'em to hand, Teel. In a mo. Just. In. Case."

* * *

The ships rattled through the atmosphere, exploding through the clouds above a verdant plateau, replete with vast cascading waterfalls and large winged beasts soaring between the huge green mountains. Rogila, letting the ship fly according to the pre-destined path, gawped at the sight. She turned to Dan.

"Ok, after this, we're coming back here for shore-leave."

"Like the scenery?"

"By the ancestors, those mountains! You are getting dragged up one of those."

Klin was also staring, but was also trying to act aloof, "Seen one green planet, seen 'em all."

Teel looked a little queasy, "Ugh. Bugs. Pollen. Great."

"Nothing positive?"

The quarian mused, then shrugged, "I suppose the boyfriend wouldn't mind a visit. He does like the hiking side of things. Bit of a homebody myself."

The other three regarded him, then as one, cracked up. Dan even managed a wry grin. Teel sighed and folded his arms, "If you're quite done, looks like we're here."

The geth fighters were peeling off, disappearing into the distance into a different valley. The corvette was descending towards a landing pad set up near the edge of one of the plateaus - there was a facility set up here, with a few hover cars parked nearby. It looked more like a resort than anything, with many of the buildings looking fairly opulent. There were still several pre-fabbed buildings, stretching towards a sheer cliff the jutted up from the middle of the plateau and formed a second tiered spire, like a large rocky cake. A large lake dominated the other half of the plateau, but it too had a few floating pre-fabs anchored on it, with a connecting bridge between them and the main facility.

The landing pad was one of three, and the others were occupied with several shuttles and a single Mantis gunship. Their corvette dwarfed the other ships as it set down with a "thunk". Through the canopy, Dan spotted a familiar figure descending the steps from the main building which was set in front of the landing zones.

"Right all, let's go. Minimal gear. I think we're expected."

The four of them filed out of the cockpit - they were already fairly tooled up - combat fatigues and sidearms, but no armour. The quartet stood in the cargo bay while the doors hissed open, revealing their host.

Kasumi Vakarian grinned at them, her purple chin mark now coupled with a set of blue facial markings.

"Better late than never."

Dan walked up to her and grinned thrusting a hand out, "Good to see you Kas. And we were on time, thank you."

"Good point. But we had to make it look believable - loitering pirates, sudden security ambush, escorted to parts unknown. All very cloak and dagger, but hey, we do what we need to. And I know we sorted the contract already, but well done with the Thresher."

Rogila stepped forward and grinned, "What is it with you and giant snake things? Seriously?"

Kasumi let out a little squeal and hugged the batarian, "Hey you, still keeping him honest?"

"As if. Couldn't bend his rules if you tried, you know that. And I've tried."

"Using all your talents?" Kas winked.

Rogila grinned, "Ok… most of his rules."

Klin and Teel followed through, the former practically crushing the slight human in a Krogan-hug, "Shadow girl! Good to see you! No Reapers this time?"

Kas caught her breath after being deposited back down and managed to shake her head, then grabbed Teel for a hug, "So, how's the boy?"

The quarian blushed, "Oh, y'know. Settled in. Met the parents…" Rogila leaned forwards and chimed in:

"He's a homebody apparently."

Kasumi laughed and patted Teel on his shoulder, before threading her arm through the quarians, "Can't wait to hear about it. It's good to see you guys in the flesh, not via some checking account. Now, let's get inside. Got food all set up."

The ground headed up the steps, Dan glancing around, "What is this place Kas?"

"Old colony and resort, built then pretty much abandoned. Cerberus reclaimed it whilst they were running a few nasty little tests around here. An associate took possession recently and it's being renovated and re-opened. Right now, it's pretty secure and off the radar. probably not for long, but it's a good base of operations. Got a few people around, new residents, some staff and maintenance people. All vouched for. This planet's getting busier. Mainly though, it's my better half's security detail. We're setting this up as one of our actual offices!"

As if on cue, the wiry form a turian appeared at the main doors to the building, flanked by a human soldier. The scarred turian nodded to the small company.

"Welcome to Casa Vakarian. We're set up in the conference room, got you guys some billets set up here for after the briefing. Nice to see you again Dan."

Sharrocks nodded, "General Vakarian. Weren't expecting to see you, sir."

The Turian flared his mandibles, then chuckled, "Eh, you know how it is. You set up a security business with your wife, thinking it'll run itself while you sit on a driving range, but no, you get dragged from toe to tail feather of the galaxy…"

Kasumi swatted her husband and tutted, "Yeah, like you hate it. Ignore him. So, let's get this sorted."

"Why couldn't you just send us the details direct, Kas?" that was Teel, who was still alternating between checking his stripped down suit's settings and gawking at the planet. The former thief gestured for the group to head into a long room with a table set up in the middle, with a small buffet setup to one side.

"We're still monitoring the buoys and we can't be sure we wouldn't tip our hand. Even with some of the resources we can draw on, there are elements of uncertainty and we wanted to keep an element of control. Plus it looks less suspicious us meeting up on a cursory inspection."

"So… then why bother with the 'arrest' in orbit?"

Garrus followed the group in then nodded to the soldier accompanying him, "Thanks Sterling. Keep the boys on their toes, just in case. Oh, uh, that's easy - keeps anyone who _might_ be watching, guessing. Are you here meeting us? Have we ticked off the geth? Plenty of false trails for them to chase down. And the geth are surprisingly up for these sort of things."

Kasumi shrugged, "They like messing with us."

Teel nodded glumly, "Until it gets out of hand." The Krogan snorted next to him and slapped his back. Kasumi took a seat in the chair at the head of the table, with Garrus leaning against a mini-bar to one side. She gestured for them to help themselves to the buffet and bar.

"So, first order, thank you for coming. We'll keep it brief, so you guys can actually, y'know, fuel up, get sorted and everything. I wanted you guys involved in this as you are the most reliable crew we have. Plus I can personally vouch for you. And that's important for our client."

Dan had poured himself a small scotch and sat down, "And who is the client this time? Seems a bit cloak and dagger for a colony op?"

Kasumi glanced at her husband who rolled his eyes, then punched a code into his omni tool. The lights dimmed and a holographic image appeared in the seat at the other end of the table - a man sitting down. The figure nodded to them.

" _Good evening everyone. I'm Admiral Shepard."_


	4. Chapter 4 - Interlude

It was early morning - the farmstead was relatively quiet, only the baying of the large, hefty meat animals disturbed the silence. This area of the continent was temperate and close to the coast, which allowed for a gentle breeze to soften the bright sun that, even at this early hour, was heating the air rapidly.

The buildings were large yet compact structures, with a few modern amenities - water storage, limited electrical generation from an independant fossil fuel power supply and a rudimentary radio antenna. A large flat-bed vehicle, also fossil fuel powered, sat under a large suspended tarpaulin. Near the dwellings stood a larger structure - barn with, prior reconnaissance had revealed, a large underground cooling chamber.

Jaeto Hurrinsh Niabi Riob Ush Tormae adjusted his position carefully in the thick undergrowth. He was observing the homestead from an elevated position at least a kilometre away, but experience had taught him that caution was vital on this planet. The occupants of the farm below were particular observant. Of _everything_. They'd lost a couple of good men on prior assignments through carelessness. Luckily, the culture on this world was not one of escalating one's problems - they were very self sufficient - the residents liked to deal with things personally, at least in these more isolated backwaters.

This location had been chosen for some very practical reasons - its distance from the more established population centres; the limit of communication lines; and the lack of technical proliferation beyond the cultural heartlands.

Tormae, as he was known to his friends, froze as he spied movement from the central dwelling. This homestead was split into three main dwelling blocks, one for the local social leader, the others for the subordinate families. He had been surprised that this culture had an agrarian aspect, but that had lessened when he'd seen that it tended towards large scale meat production. The farmers here doubled as butchers - easily capable of manhandling the large bovine-like creatures they herded. The one that had emerged was being trailed by two large creatures; domesticated beasts from their observation period. They were six-limbed, limber and designed for speed. The creatures moved like a shark, or a sea-eel, but transposed to land. Tormae had seen them in action, herding the large, lumbering herd animals.

As the dawn spread across the countryside, more of the farmers were emerging, blinking, into the light. Tormae counted eight in total - the total population of the homestead was twelve - nine adults and three juveniles. The other four were probably still indoors. He watched as the largest of the group (the one who had also emerged first) began issuing out tasks. Most of them probably knew routine anyway - most agrarian settlements had them as you needed people to not be micromanaged. The Salarian had never seen the appeal - yes, he was patient and enjoyed tasks, but it as the same old slog.

A voice crackled in his comm:

" _Any updates?"_

He wasn't sure how he felt about the voice, his current team lead. Well, co-team lead. This was a joint operation. But still, she was a relatively unknown quantity. And she was fairly independent.

"Targets one through eight sighted. Go on my mark. Remember, Sharanae, we cannot allow them to get outside of the established operating area."

" _Not my first gig, y'know?"_

The comm went dead. She was a frustrating one, that asari. But her commando team had proved invaluable on the last few runs. They, along with a few of their other augmentees, had made these pickups pretty routine. Still risky, but a lot smoother. He checked the readout on his omni-tool - they were still two minutes from optimal positioning. Well, they weren't always afforded the luxury of precision.

Tormae sighted down the scope again and drew a bead on the group leader. He lined up between the creature's crest, between its eight eyes. A quick check confirmed he was set to "concuss." With a slight adjustment to his breathing, he fired. The leader's head jerked back a microsecond after the crack of his Mantis. The rest of the group were frozen, stunned - their social hierarchy was currently in flux. Something had injured their leader, who was currently down on one knee and swaying. Something had challenged their leader. Some _one_.

Tormae smiled as, as he had predicted, one of the younger males stepped forwards and delivered a swinging punch to his crippled leader. Even in small settlements like this, the yahg social dynamic took hold - their need for absolute leadership.

He glanced up and allowed himself a little nod as he spotted the glowing streaks descending rapidly. With the commotion below, the creatures didn't even consider the potential for external threats.

Which was why they were completely unprepared for the five Atlas mechs that slammed into the ground around them.

* * *

Sharanae grinned as she felt the mech shake around her, the clamps holding it in place releasing her into a freefall. In her three hundred years alive, nothing quite lived up to the feeling of a combat drop - the anticipation, the cold rush of air and turbulence, and the knowledge that you were about to bring a world of hurt to some poor sap. She had been itching to try out the new variants, watching the Salarian techs tinker and fine tune.

Around her she tracked the IFF indicators of her battle sisters, dropping in a clean five point formation. Even with all the adrenaline, she knew that they'd have to be fast when they hit the ground - Yahg weren't exactly a "single shot and down" type opponent. Which was why, apparently, they were fantastic for the purposes of her employers.

The Atlas' HUD also indicated several green pointers - Tornae's recon team. She knew they had her back but wasn't too concerned. The Salarian was a cold one, that she knew, but she'd never really gotten on with them as a species anyway. Ironic, considering the current arrangement, but she was a good soldier - she did as she was told. Another ping showed the inbound shuttles - they had ten minutes after hitting the ground to wrap this up then. The indigenous lifeforms around here had just grasped the concept of RADAR and barely had working radios outside of their large cities. Out here it was a real frontier, so even if the local militia did bother responding, they'd have time. But it would be the risk of being spotted by a passing witness, which would mean a whole load of cleanup that they couldn't afford to risk.

Plus she liked a challenge.

At a thousand metres she gave the command and the mechs unfolded flaps to begin a slowdown of descent. Sharanae sent a click over her comm to the rest of her team. At 750 metres all five mechs unfolded launchers from their shoulders and blasted a salvo of grenades into the air above them. At 500 metres they began spinning up the enhanced mass effect generators the Salarian's had installed - akin to a small starfighter's drive output. It complimented the built in fusion drive that atlas' usually came equipped with.

She watched the ground loom ever closer. 400. 300. 200 One of Tormae's team flashed, indicating a shot had been taken. She could see the larger yahg of the group below stumble. 100.

Impact.

She grinned wolfishly as the strike team slammed into the packed soil of the farm yard - mass effect fields rippled, dissipating the impact force into lateral shockwaves that floored some of the smaller yahg and blasted apart wooden fence panels. She brought the Atlas to its full upright height and did a rapid check of all functions - servos, manipulators, mass effect field emitters - all green.

One of the yahg was struggling to its feet, the others looking utterly dazed. Even the fight between the alpha and the would-be usurper had paused.

She wondered at the thoughts that could be running through their heads. Probably not pleasant ones - yahg had a fairly black and white approach to things - if it bowed down, you left it alone or maybe ate it later. If it challenged you, beat it until it became the former. Well, now it was time to provide a lesson in humility.

"Remember, keep them alive and intact. _Try_ to focus on body shots. The bosses want the brains intact."

One of the yahg blinked and then roared. And at that moment, the grenades arrived. The air filled with flashes and explosions of smoke The yahg staggered, its eight eyes all blinking independently as its brain tried to compensate for the various flashes across several spectrums. It hadn't time to react as a metal fist appeared through the smokey haze and connected with its jaw sending it sprawling.

Sharanae chuckled, "Ooops. Well, still breathing". She looked up as the shuttle she'd been monitoring streaked overhead, depositing the second wave of troops. Nine minutes.

The five mechs went to town.

* * *

Tormae watched through the scope. He had to hand it to the asari - she knew how to make an entrance. He'd had to justify why they were going in at dawn and not at night, as she'd wanted them to. The answer was simple - yahg vision. They were the apex predator on the planet and, whilst civilised and operating during daylight hours, they still had vision that was better in the dark. Yes, they could've augmented their troops with night vision and thermals, but it would still mean that, even if they could negate the yahg advantage of sight, they'd still have to fight through the same disruptions but with the natural impact of low ambient light levels. Add to the fact that at close quarters, even with mech assistance, it was risky.

At this time, in the dawn low light, the yahg vision was particularly vulnerable - adjusting from waking, into low light, they would have an initial shock advantage. Plus they could engage them in the open, rather than having to move into an enclosed space, which would've ceded the combat advantage to the yahg. that would've meant deploying mechs would be that much trickier. Luring the yahg out at night would also be more manpower intensive and would've required ambush tactics and a more wide-spread engagement environment, risking further bleed-in of external elements.

The shuttles had deposited the second strike team, a mix of krogan and turian troops he'd enlisted. They were a reliable team of mercs - _Manae's Fist_. One of the few merc crews that was staffed by krogan and turians exclusively. They were professional veterans from the Palaven campaign who'd found they had a lot in common and chosen to continue that outside of normal military employ. They were brutally efficient at urban warfare as well - the turian's launching flashbangs into the buildings, with the krogan then closing inside and subduing the occupants - with the adults outside, it was only the juveniles and their minders to deal with. And a juvenile yahg was not a match for a krogan - naturally subservient, they didn't develop the competitive edge until adolescence. The troops outside were now just steering clear from the mech and yahg brawl.

As Tormae watched he saw one of the machs slam into a fist to fist grip with a middling sized yahg. The mech glowed as the asari inside triggered her biotics, then drew on the larger eezo-core of the augmented drive, bolstering the weight of the mech. Slowly, with ever increasing steps, the mech forced the yahg back and down onto its knees.

Another yahg was powering towards them, but it jerked sideways as a shot impacted. Tormae grinned - the rest of his team were spread around the hillsides and seemed to be contributing well as a force multiplier - every time a yahg seemed to regain its balance, another blast from a concussion round knocked them that little bit off again.

A second mech was landing blow after blow onto a female yahg, who was giving as good as she got. The Atlas paused, then flexed its arms. Prongs sprung forth, arcing with blue electricity. Another couple sharp body blows staggered the female. The Atlas then shunted both arms forward, delivering a sustained charge. Tormae winced as the yahg shuddered, then collapsed.

Sharanae seemed to be holding her own well. One yahg was already down at her feet, whilst she held another one with one mechanised arm. The other fist of the atlas slammed into the poor creature's stomach, a faint blue glow around the arm showing she was augmenting each punch with a biotic _push_. The creature was dribbling a nasty purple fluid, most likely blood. Sharanae dropped it, then turned her attention elsewhere. Tormae took aim at another yahg and proceeded to act as the force multiplier he was.

* * *

The rest of the melee was over in eight minutes and forty seven seconds. For the most part.

The alpha still stood, swaying. Three of the mechs were dragging the unconscious or mewling yahg into rows, securing energised restraints against their ankles and wrists. Biotic glows surrounded the restraints, increasing their mass and holding the large sentients in place. The ground troops, all fifteen of them, stood near the corralled juveniles, who were growling and whimpering to their shackled family. One of the krogan was sat with a split fringe, a turian administering medi-gel.

Shanarae frowned - the man… _creature_ … had taken a good few hits. To the body _and_ head. The alpha wouldn't go down however. Her comm clicked and she sighed.

" _Having trouble_?"

"Ha ha, Tor. Never met a guy I couldn't put on his ass."

" _How you get men on their backs is not of interest to me. We have a 75% extraction quota. But he seems a particularly resilient specimen. Your extraction is due in thirty seconds."_

"Have you _SEEN_ how tough he is? Sure he's worth the 100% completion rate?"

" _Perhaps not. Eliminate if you feel you cannot take him. We will understand."_

Sharanae grinned nastily. Behind the alpha she could see the shuttles bearing down. Behind them was a larger silhouette - their cargo hauler. Time to finish this.

"All right. Choices are: go quietly, or… well, that's all you got."

The yahg grunted in its guttural language and made a gesture that was clearly not pleasant. One of its pack muttered something in response, which got it a sharp electrified smack from an Atlas. In response the alpha straightened then lurched into a charge. Sharanae braced her mech and focused her mind. She felt her biotic amp flare, drawing on her own eezo reserves. She pushed her focus onto the eezo core on her machine and drew on the material, boosting her power.

The yahg bore down on her, arms spread, ready to tackle. She planted the mech's feet into the dusty ground and flowed the biotic energy into the legs and chest. When the yahg slammed into her, it was as if he'd head-butted a mountain. He crumpled.

" _Expeditiously done."_

"Shame. I do like a good beat down. But as you said… we're on the clock."

* * *

The whole assault had taken nine minutes fifty three seconds. The drop ships had arrived and they'd hauled the yahg into a series of independent containment cells. That had taken another twelve minutes, even with biotic support. The ground troops had, as a bonus, even subdued the pack animals - they'd been loaded as well, for separate study. Finally, the mechs had loaded several of the farmers' own livestock into the dropship hold - they needed supplies to maintain their captives after all.

Thirty three minutes after launch, the ships reared into the sky. Below them, they left an abandoned farm-stead. The ground team had swept any evidence of their presence and had even killed a couple of the animals to make it look like some form of, as the humans called it, "cattle rustling".

Tormae watched the ships go, then pinged his team to withdraw to their own RV point for extraction.

STG command would be pleased.


	5. Chapter 5 - Slow burn

The briefing had been, well, _brief_. Shepard had nailed some major points - mysterious shipping activity; strange routes; unknown sponsors. It'd been a pre-recorded message (No QEC had been installed and the comm buoys were rather overwhelmed with geth transmitting on and off world, making wide-bandwidth comms hard) but it'd been something to realise he was their sponsor. Even indirectly.

" _This isn't a SPECTRE operation. We don't know who's holding the strings on this one, so for now my teams are merely investigating pirate activity and sub contracting that out to private security firms, such as ONI. This will enable you to operate without heavy handed oversight but does pose an element of risk in that you are independant - any support requests wil ltake time to action. The Vakarians will provide more details - I have dispatched a hard-copy data drive to the system via intermediaries. Right now, I am erring on the cautious side of paranoid. Garrus and Kasumi tell me that you are the best, most reliable team ONI has. I trust them and so, I trust you. Best of luck."_

Dan was now lying in one of the repurposed hotel's rooms, on a large double bed. Rogilia was sat at the other end of the bed, moonlight reflecting off of her four eyes and casting her body with suggestive shadows. She regarded Dan with a crooked grin.

"So, what have you gotten us into now?"

The human returned the grin and shrugged, "Not my fault. Blame Kasumi. But I don't think they'd throw us completely to the wolves."

"She was a thief…"

"And Garrus was a copper. And when did her being a thief bother you?"

"Oh it doesn't, I'd trust her with anything. But she has sometimes bitten off more than she can chew. She's a thief, not a soldier. Just saying that maybe she's not looking at this with an eye to long term strategy."

"She's done well with setting up ONI. She' done well by us. And she's survived."

"Yes, she has. But we're not _her_. We don't have Shepard and his crew of hardass killers to back us up."

"You saying she needs them? That you don't think we're up to the task?"

"We barely know what the task is, Daniel. Find some rogue freighters? Work out why they're playing 'hide the nathak' with shipping? And then what, when we find out it's some sort of Cerberus Reaper Thresher Maw hybrid from Andromeda with a plan to blot out all life in the galaxy?"

The batarian women widened her eyes in an exaggerated "HMMMMM" expression. Dan chuckled and threw a pillow at her, "And if it is, we'll kick its arse. Like we did with the Reaper. Like we did in London. And like we did with that Thresher."

Rogilia huggd the pillow, then threw it back at him. She smiled, her sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight, "Good, just checking. Was worried you were going to back out."

Dan snorted, "Why?"

"Because I like messing with you. And because I want to make sure you've thought this through. And that this isn't a waste of time."

"It's a paying job."

Rogilia glanced at the ceiling with her upper eyes and pursed her lips, before nodding, "Ok, I'll admit that's a good point. But we aren't just in this for the money, remember?"

Dan heaved a mock sigh, "Why did I end up with a girl who's addicted to crazy warfare?"

Rogilia leaned forward and began to prowl up the bed, "Because I'm the only one who can keep up with you." Then she pounced…

* * *

The team were up bright and early, back in the conference room. Garrus was there along with Kasumi, along with a new arrival - a geth platform. Dan's team filed in and sat. Klin and Teel glanced curiously at the new arrival, but stayed quiet. The Turian nodded as they made themselves comfortable.

"Morning all, hope you feel a bit more rested now. We didn't want to launch straight into things yesterday until we'd received all the data from Shepard. He extends his apologies he can't be here "live" as it were, but as he mentioned, we're trying to keep things at arms reach. There are a lot of competing intel agencies and the political situation around the Citadel is tense right now." He gestured to the Geth, "This is… well, Liaison 0035. We call…. Her Lia for short."

The geth raised its face flaps as a greeting, "It is equitable to meet you."

The team nodded in response and Garrus continued.

"Lia here will be an addition to your team," he held up a three fingered hand to forestall any questions, "As an augmentation and to man the additional resources we will be providing you with. Lia is part of the geth colony here and as such has a much more efficient communication connection to here. Also, we know that even the STG have been unable to crack geth encryption or have any real ability to extract data from live geth transmissions. So, think of her as our liaison to you and a guarantee of secure intel. We're also providing a few augmentations to your ship: a compliment of upgraded LOKI mechs, an additional platform for Lia and a pair of UAV's for Lia to control."

Dan leaned forward, "That's… a lot of hardware, sir."

Garrus flexed his mandibles, "Be prepared, Sharrocks. Anyway, we're using LOKI mechs as if we gave you geth platforms, then that would raise too many suspicions. Geth, as a rule, don't sign on with merc cruisers. But we don't know what you'll run into out there. It's good to have contingencies."

Kasumi tapped a terminal, built into the table, which flashed up several holograms and projected documents.

"Here's the data we have so far, along with the supplements Shepard dispatch. Lia took receipt this morning. Reports indicate that after trawling the shipping records most of the cargo that was flagged as unusual was located here, in the Attican Beta system."

Klin chimed in, "What were the Turians doing out there? That's human space?"

Garrus leaned forward, "The turians identified a shipment in the Terminus. This was flagged by a routine Alliance patrol but the cargo freighter managed to escape after using a planet's field to mask its FTL sprint."

Teel gestured at the numbers, "Huge amounts of material. But the manifests are wrong? What are we supposed to be looking for - half of this stuff makes no sense. If you view it all together I mean."

"That's just it," mused Kasumi, "The manifests claim the shipments are carrying far worse items. But we believe some unregistered ships are moving other cargo."

Dan nodded, "So it's as we thought - a smokescreen, keep all the patrols either incredibly busy chasing ghosts, or bore them to death so much they ignore freighters passing through."

Garrus nodded, "Exactly. So, first step is to identify which ships are the ones being used as decoys. And which are the ones doing the actual shipping. This could just be an elaborate red sand ring, but we can hand that over to C-Sec once we have a trail. If it's something more, then we need to get on it."

Kasumi brought up a list of shipping companies, all fairly minor and registered across the Terminus and Attican Traverse.

"These are they key businesses involved. So far we haven't been able to sift the data and when queried about the manifests its all been laid down to computer error or lazy book keeping."

"So this could just be one big hunt for a computer error?" That was Rogilia. Kas grinned at her.

"If that's the case, I promise to let you have ten minutes with the programmer to blame." The batarian woman nodded in mock satisfaction, "Anyway, we don't believe this is a simple error. There are too many incidents. And the fact that these supposed mistakes are listing things like 'reaper' as items on the manifest is something a little beyond poor humour. What was interesting is that as soon as the turians impounded the freighter in the Terminus an escrow that matched their cargo manifest appeared on two separate trade boards on Illium and Dobrovolski, in the Hades system. Interestingly, the items are very rudimentary - habitation pods and fencing."

Teel looked around, "So, as if someone is setting up a colony? Didn't you also mention fencing and enclosure equipment?"

"Exactly. What's interesting is that the freighters and corvette couriers have been chartered from frontier colony worlds, which means there's probably some escrow accounts being set up to run this. They are collecting items from pre-arranged points, across Council space, Alliance Territory and even in the Terminus. The bulk, however, is from Council space, as that's where most industries are now back up and running fully. No major corporations involved, or shell affiliates at most. We have noticed a pattern however. So if someone is setting up an anchorage of some point, they want to keep it quiet."

The data flashed away and a galactic map sprung up, with Mass Relay locations flagging across it. Garrus tapped his omni tool and brought up a small overlay which sprung up onto the map.

"All the freighters were heading towards the Traverse or had destination logs pinpointing delivery zones. Now, we haven't checked them all yet. Most of these ships weren't stopped by any customs or patrols, only a few were spotted by patrols and they all seem fairly shady. This information was obtained via some fairly in depth data mining. So, we know they weren't faking the logs - if they were boarded, we reckon they'd have flashed the data and imposed a false transit plan, but in 90% of the cases we've seen consistency - Phoenix Massing and the Crescent Nebula."

The company groaned. They all knew the common link there. Garrus grinned "Yeah. Omega connects to both systems. It may be just a transit system rather than the destination. So, here's what we have.."

Kasumi nodded at her husband and brought up a list of systems. She leaned back in her chair and nodded at the display, "Here're the systems the freighters originated from as well as their home ports. We'll provide that list we showed covering the companies involved - could be a good avenue to check. We need to to identify the source of these requests, confirm whether they are linked and, if possible, identify the final destination of the goods.."

Dan leaned forward, eyes fixed on the data, as if his focus alone would force it to reveal further secrets, "So, standard recon and report?"

Garrus nodded, "No gunship diplomacy. We want you for your surveillance and infiltration knowledge. You lasted for months in Reaper infested London. You helped with the clean up of the Traverse and helped reclaim Eden Prime. We want you to go in there, act the part then extract and let the Fleet solve the problem if it's bigger than just some complex trading scam. That said, we all know no plan survives first contact. So, if you need to fight your way out, or dig in somewhere, we know you will. But try to avoid a running engagement across a garden world, is all we ask."

Dan nodded, "Right then. Anything else?"

"We've got hard copy files for you. Remember, anything to do with this, transmit via Lia. safe comms only via the buoys. I've got our new QM setup in one of the loading docks, setting up an interim armoury, so go check it out. This op is at your discretion, we've just given you the parameters. Normal day rate for sub contractors and a bonus at the end, scaled from pirate bounty to Reaper mark two," The turian grinned then shrugged, "Though if it's that, then we'll transfer it to you immediately so we can all spend the last few days getting drunk in a bar"

Dan relaxed and grinned back, "Here's hoping not. Thanks sir, Kas. Anyone else involved in the investigation? Lot of turf to cover?"

"No, too many people asking the same questions would be bad. We will have informants on the ground, but they aren't connected to us directly," that was from Kasumi. Dan had a feeling he knew - the rumoured Shadow Broker connection that Shepard and his cohort had. He turned as Teel leaned forward. The quarian quirked his head to one side, his slightly exaggerated body movements at odds with the stripped down breather mask and suit he wore.

"So, uh, if this is some government black op, why aren't they just using internal resources? Or their own industry? Wouldn't that flag options in terms of the type of gear they're uh, buying up and shipping?"

Kasumi pursed her lips, "With the manifests and contradictory reports, we don't know if these are dummy orders to distract while they do just that. Most of the races have got infrastructure back on track, so they could be doing that as well. Right now we don't have that info. That's why we're sending you in."

The team exchanged glances, satisfied they had no more questions. Garrus straightened and deactivated the terminal, "We'll be based here for the duration. Since ONI is expanding, we've designated this a regional office. Makes sense for the owners to oversee the expansion. All comms will go via the geth base and we'll have a permanent liaison here. The troopers here can be trusted, I vetted them myself."

The team stood and filed out. Lia joined them, pausing with Teel for a moment, before they all exited the room. Dan paused and regarded his employers, "Honestly what do you expect us to find?"

Garrus glanced at Kasumi and they both shrugged. The diminutive thief cocked her head, "We hope it's just smuggling. But honestly, it seems to widespread. Too organised."

The turian folded his arms, "Worst case, probably one of the governments running something secretive. But even then, it may just be an internal security thing that we don't need to worry about. But the turians and humans seem to think it's worth a look."

"And if it is something big?"

"Then we see whether it's pointing at us and if it's sharp. Then we kill it," Garrus grinned, his mandibles flaring and eyes twinkling, "I would've thought that was obvious."

"Suits me. One thing. With this search, can you spot when the next likely freighter will be requested? You said that as soon as one got caught..."

Kasumi glanced at her husband and grinned, "I like how you think Dan. We'll keep an eye out, see if the geth can't improve it to be more predictive."

"Grand. Well, I best go and take advantage of your QM, before Rogilia steals all the good rifles."

He flashed a quick salute which caught the pair a bit by surprise and left the briefing room. Garrus looked at Kasumi, "Good team Kas."

"Yeah. Just hope this doesn't get… deep. Part of me wishes Shep didn't call us up."

"Yeah. But think of the references. What was it Jacob said…? The Priiii-"

She scowled at him, "Don't even think about finishing that, big bird. When did you get so corporate?"

"When I realised that I need to buy us a house and keep you entertained and out of other people's strong rooms."

"Hmph."

* * *

Tormae stood on the catwalk overlooking the loading bay, arms clasped behind his back. Below, the recent captures were being unloaded from their transport freighter, currently cradled in a docking array. They were aboard a super-max freighter, the origins of which he wasn't too clear on. It was an impressive vessel, however, in terms of tonnage it dwarfed the dreadnaught that was currently holding station alongside them. They'd departed the yahg home system without complication before rendezvousing with the hauler and its escort, before the final leg.

He turned and headed along the gantry and stepped through the access port into another loading bay. The asari were gathered in here, working on their mechs alongside teams of Salarian techs. He spotted Sharanae going through the motions in her mech. The merc spotted him and gave a brief wave, before turning to finish her calibrations. Tormae waited, patiently, his large eyes blinking rapidly as he scanned the bay - as with most Salarian operations it seemed initially haphazard, yet with an underlying order. Compared with the Asari and their more measured, methodical approach, it was surprising how well they operated together.

He looked up as Sharanae called his name. Above him, she began to glow, a biotic aura taking hold. Slowly, she rose from the mech cockpit and drifted down towards the deck. Another asari approached, pushing a hover-chair, which Sharane settled into. The other asari nodded to her commander, then moved to join her comrades in stripping weapons and running repairs. Tormae smiled thinly and gestured for the merc leader to follow him.

Sharanae grinned as the chair floated after the salarian, "Still confuses you doesn't it?"

The amphibious alien shrugged, "I will admit I find it strange that you are in the profession you are, with you current impediments."

The asari snorted, "A krogan snapping your spine shouldn't be a reason to give up," she grinned at his expression of shock, "Oh I never mentioned that part. What, your STG files didn't have that bit in there?"

Tormae rallied and paused, "Interestingly, no. Still, it is admirable that you keep pushing onward. I am just surprised you have never…"

"Got my legs sorted?"

"Indeed."

"Aside from the nerve scarring it's the biotics. Plus a number of medical complications. Which I'm sure you're aware of. I know how you guys work - all contingencies. I bet you've even found out what I'm allergic to if and when you feel the need to remove my team."

Tormae shook his head, "Now, why would we do…"

The asari fixed him with a stare, "I've been around the galaxy too long. You don't get to be a matriarch by being a stupid maiden. Well, not often. I've been in this business works and I know how sub contractors get treated if they become… liabilities."

The salarian looked non plussed. This was what bothered him about the woman - she was perspicacious in the extreme. Combative and confrontational. No respect for the chain of command. He exhaled slowly, "Usually, yes, we have dark protocols. However, it is inefficient to kill off or remove hired help - their absence starts to get noticed if you make a habit. Far better to cultivate trusted relationships. And I would like to think that is what _we_ have."

Sharanae gave him a sceptical look, "Uh huh."

"I will be honest, you have proven useful. As have Manae's Fist. Now, were you to start being more indiscreet then yes. We would perhaps have to look at enacting things. However, I can assure you that your retainer is secure and we will not be looking at those options. If this operation doesn't work out, I'm up a cloaca as much as you."

He gestured for them to continue. The asari floated alongside him in silence for a moment, before interjecting again, "Well that's reassuring."

"I hope so. But if that was your opinion, why sign on?"

"Didn't know you were STG to start off. Had my suspicions. You lot give off a vibe - all intense seriousness. You're not as nervy as the rest of the toads."

"Lovely, thank you."

"Hrm. Anyway, even if you were going to double cross us, the money up front was worth it. Many of my troop, they have commitments to support."

"Did notice - not many maidens."

"Yeah, I take only a few of them and even then only ones who've been out in the world a while. No Republic scholars here. I need edges, not ballet dancers. None of that thirst for glory, but the bile and rage of people who've been there. I can use that. Plus when they do something crazy, they commit to it."

Tormae mused for a moment, replaying the mech fight in his head, "You identify with them."

"Yeah. Probably some krogan in there as well, but I have no desire to be a matriarch who lectures from a spire. Inspire from the front, show the path."

"Excellent."

Sharanae looked at the Salarian, a frown crossing her face, "Not expecting that."

"To be honest, I now see why my superiors asked for you. You wish to set an example. And that is why I have been asked to extend the contract."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It seems we have lost some of our shipments."

"Of…?" Here the asari jerked a thumb back towards the direction of the hangars. Tormae shook his head.

"No, not live cargo. Supplies and so forth. We had a few fronts running but there is a chance that they have been identified. We're not sure by whom."

"Shadow broker."

"Most likely. We had hoped he had been eliminated by the Reapers, but no such luck there."

"So, what do you need me to do?"

"My command cannot be seen to be involved. We need you to secure a new batch of supplies."

The asari glared at him, "You want me to go _shopping_? Run some errands? Maybe I can make you mollusc roll while I'm at it?"

Tormae met her glare and blinked. They stood like that for a moment, in silence, as another pair of salarians walked past, lit up by various live omni-tools and head-displaying holograms. The pair batted data between them, yammering away, utterly ignorant of the atmosphere of the corridor. An access door hissed shut as the two amphibians moved along. Tormae quirked a grin which seemed to defuse things a little.

"Not quite. We need it to be subtle but we need more effective haulers. For a variety of cargo types. We were using regular shipping firms, masking the escrow. But now, well. We need to outsource. And we need someone with credibility to not be fleeced. I need someone not afraid to 'get involved' and… lead from the front."

"Huh. And why should I modify the contract to do this?"

"Why? Because then I will show you why we're doing this."

"And why not send Craddius and his troops?"

"Oh they'll be there. As your escort. Makes it look less like a single species op then."

The asari leaned back in the hover chair. The whine of its small eezo-core filled the silent corridor, "Fine. I'll admit, I'm curious why you've got me snatching yahg. I try not to ask questions about ops. But this one…. This is weird," she leaned forward, "And after the Reapers, am I gonna like this weird?"

"Let's just say, for now, that it isn't about sitting and lecturing maidens from a tower. My adjutant will forward the relevant data."

The asari gave a curt nod, then spun her chair and moved back towards the hangar bay. Despite what he'd said, she was still expendable. No overt connections - she'd be another merc asking to run some risky cargo ops. If it worked, they'd get a load of shipment specialists used to running smuggling ops with ease. And it would mean another layer between command and its various shadow banks and the couriers. Plus, if the Shadow broker was monitoring, then the STG wouldn't be the first assumption he, she or they would make.

Necessarily.

They'd have to deal with that element one day. Right now though, if she came back, he would show her. And then they'd have to deal with her reaction. He wasn't sure it was wise going _that_ far. Use her as a trusted asset, but bringing her in?

But then, she was a Matriarch. And even more active ones like her had clout on Thessia. He wasn't going to question Command.

He wandered the halls of the freighter, looking out into the vast cargo hold. They'd gutted most of the ship and installed various has internally, whilst redesigning the substructure with more access corridors. Essentially, this place was a containment centre and laboratory in one, albeit a transit location. It meant they could do some interim work before the main facility was… ready.

He turned a corner and paused in front of a door. The smell of medicinal alcohol was strong, even outside. It hissed open and he stepped in. The lab was broken into two - the observation area he was now stood in and the clean room within. He nodded at several techs dotted around the room, before approaching the window into the main theatre. A bio-suited salarian turned and nodded to him.

" _Ah, Captain. Welcome. Good. Just in time. New specimen, aged 29 gal-standard. Exposure prior to upper cortical alterations. Should be very interesting."_

Tormae smiled and nodded, "Please, Dr Mordin. Continue."

The doctor turned back to the subject strapped to the table - a yahg. A large cylinder placed at the head lifted revealing a silver, shimmering sphere. A blue field shimmered around it.

" _Begin incision. Procede. Drop barrier by 20%. Begin monitoring."_

A robotic arm descended towards the bleary-eyed creature, which began to strain against its bindings. There was the sound of a buzzsaw whirring to life. Tormae smiled thinly.

Yes, Command would be pleased.

* * *

 **Hey guys, thought I'd chip in here - bit of a delay with this one, lots of exposition and slow movement. Setting scenes. This ones a tad more talky than my previous!**

 **I have ideas for another story as well, separate universe. But i'll get this one done before that.**

 **As usual, Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and EA. If you like it, please do leave a review or drop me a line. It's good to hear from y'all!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Tracking

Dan leaned back against one of the new cargo containers currently secured in their hold. He felt vaguely uneasy - he knew it contained about ten LOKI mechs, tightly packed together. The mechs always made him uneasy; yes, he'd fought alongside battalions of them in London and across Earth. But you always heard stories about them glitching, or being involved in industrial "accidents".

That these had been augmented to effectively house geth was only a minor salve - the galaxy still had an odd relationship with the geth. After that initial energy blast from the Crucible, people had assumed the geth had been wiped out; they'd come back online, but he'd heard people around him expressing relief, in that moment. That mistrust of synthetics still ran deep, even if for no other reason than "tradition".

"Lia" stood across the bay, its back to him. There was a glowing gether terminal set up against the bulkhead there. He'd watched the geth wire it in; it'd almost fused with the metal and wiring. He had asked why it didn't use the cockpit and the answer had been a mix of reassuring and cryptic: "I did not wish to make a permanent mark."

Having seen how the area around the terminal was impacted, he was glad the geth hadn't "interfaced" with the bridge consoles - that would've messed up things there. And Rogilia would've scrapped the thing on the spot. She was still uneasy about the geth being aboard, but was being professional about it.

They had been drifting near the Mass Relay in the Hawking Eta Cluster, monitoring data traffic. Well, that's what Lia said it was doing. The hands of the platform only moved faintly against the haptic and holographic display - the actual data was being shared between the terminal and the platform with the actual "number crunching" going on at a rate he couldn't comprehend.

"Sharrocks Lieutenant - we have set up a parallel transmission stream with the Turian patrols in this area."

Dan grunted and adjusted his position against the crates, "You sure that's wise? Dinnae want to be annoying them."

"They are aware of the incursion. We have spoken with the geth partners aboard the frigates. We have achieved consensus on limited data sharing."

"You sound uncomfortable."

"Geth share everything. Boundaries are…. New."

Dan relaxed a little, "We're all learning… Lia. You don't mind the name?"

"I chose the name. It is effective and to the point."

"Hm. Mind if I ask a question?"

"It is why we are here."

"Y-eah. So, the we and I thing? Why do you switch?"

"We are a nation. A collective. But we are united in common purpose that grants each collective an identity."

"Aye, but that's akin to me saying 'I'm Scotland', surely?"

"Are you mentally linked with all your fellows, able to decide things and then speak with one mind on a subject?"

"Errr, not quite."

"Then the analogy does not correlate. We are many as one. Individuals. A better analogy is to describe the microbiology of your brain - a series of cells working in tandem. All with purpose, able to share information. But our cells talk more."

Dan blinked, "Was… was that a joke?"

"If you find that sort of thing amusing. Then yes."

He grinned. The geth turned and raised an eye flap in what he now realised was "mock innocence.

"Well played Lia. So, what have our turian friends found then?"

"Several suspect freighters were intercepted, after tip offs from the geth. We have not identified any new escrow accounts, however."

"So, dead end?"

"No - the turians are monitoring transit through the relay. There are, apparently, several flagged transports which they have cleared as possessing flashed ID's."

"And that means?"

"The ID is altered enough to pass through a relay and passive computer scans. However, as it is scrutinised, the _identity_ erases and in doing so flashes a transmission of junk data across all channels. This is enough to get into a new system and stop most security vessels identifying the true nature of the ship. Their cyber warfare systems do not have a chance to track or penetrate the ships for identification."

"And there've been a few of these?"

"Lieutenant, this is a major smuggling route in the Terminus - the turians, whilst impressive, cannot track the volume of these occurrences."

"Lia, I am sure there's a point in here _somewhere_?"

"Whilst the flashes prevent rapid ship identification, the actual occurrence of a flash can be tracked. We have identified a pattern - cargo classified vessels moving in a single transit path. Combat vessels and suspected minor classification vessels are different - they are random. But the freighters all have a single destination, which we have traced via several comms to other relay monitoring stations. We have managed to identify a pattern of routes all leading in one direction."

Dan pulled his head back and blinked, "So… rather than trying to chase them you…. Just watched?"

"A hunter does not chase. They wait. A shoal of fish relies on numbers to survive, but in doing so reveals its location."

"Ok, metaphors and geth, I am not used to _that_."

"I am getting there."

"So where's the system?"

"They are transiting to Omega but system traffic that side is not heading to the station - I have several routines checking time stamps to match arrivals with the node flashes. Yes. Yes. No. Yes. I see. Five of the thirteen ships made course adjustments to take them out of the system. Transit line and FTL trace is not 100% but within an 87.54% range of accuracy. Target: Fathar system."

"Interesting. Well it's a start. We'll need more to go on - a solar system is a wee bit bigger than I was wanting to scour."

Lia nodded and twitched as it refocused on the terminal, the "iris" of the flashlight head seeming to de-focus as Lia focused all routines back onto the wireless communication. Sharrocks hauled himself up through the access hatch and past the crew bay - Klin was lying back against a bunk, reading a data pad. Teel was hunched over the table, tweaking an omni tool, with a pair of pistols dismantled nearby. Dan nodded at them as he went past, then clambered up the narrow stairs to the cockpit.

Rogilia turned and focused her upper eyes at him, then offered a lazy smile.

"How's your new sex bot?"

Sharrocks snorted and shook his head, "Awae with you, you timorous beastie. I may be a rugged bugger, but I think my charm bounces off robots."

Rogilia shrugged and fiddled with a few flight settings, "Hmm. Maybe. Not sure about it being on board."

"Rog, it's useful."

The batarian woman turned in her seat and stared at him, "I know what you're going to say Dan - we fought alongside them, they're allies, they're people. But I was in the Hegemony - we were damn close to geth space. Had a few run ins with them."

"But that was their heretics…"

"And the fact that they have the concept of a heretic isn't creepy enough? I get the logic. But I'm still not used to them. And having one fiddling around with my ship really sets my eyes itching."

Dan nodded slowly and reached across to squeeze her shoulder, "I get it Rog. I do. I had friends on Eden Prime. But remember, wasnae so long ago your people and mine…"

Rogilia rolled her eyes. It was impressive, seeing two pairs of eyes roll in opposite directions, "and now I'm back to being jealous… if we can bridge the gap, then who knows what humans and geth can achieve."

"Seriously... ?"

They both grinned and Rogilia relaxed, "Fine, I know. I'll try to be a bit more accepting. But you have to admit they're a bit creepy."

"Oh we ain't disagreeing there darlin'."

* * *

Their ship thudded out of FTL in the Fathar system. The snubby corvette drifted silently in the glittering void, the boxy shape interrupted only by what looked like a pair of additional engine pods - distinct in their chrome colour and curved, almost insectoid shape. Another Garrus contingency - in case they needed air support apparently. Dan hadn't objected, though he had pointed out these were a lot more "Geth-y" than the LOKI Mechs. The turian had simply grinned and asked if he thought many people knew what Geth ships looked like.

Rogilia squinted at the displays, while Teel fidgeted in the second seat, checking a few engineering outputs. Sharrocks sat in the comms chair - Klin was down in the cargo bay with Lia, checking gear. Teel turned and fidgeted.

"Systems check as nominal - the geth drones seem to be… happy. Just, y'know, clamped on. Ready to launch. Do some shooting. Do we need to be ready to do some shooting?"

"Not much on comms - local traffic from Lorek. Some automated pings from robo-miners. No patrol vessels or Citadel militia," Dan chewed his lip for a moment then keyed the comm, "How about you Lia - you seeing 'owt under all this?"

 _"One moment, Sharrocks-Lieutenant. There appears to be a low level repeat pattern on the channel designated for trade. It is masked within the data streams but is a repeating pulse."_

Dan listed as the geth broadcast the signal to his earpiece, "Familiar… ah. It sounds like Morse code."

Rogilia turned back, "You mean Fathak'Nar code."

Sharrocks snorted, "Can't let us have anything, can ye? All that parallel development guff."

Rogilia chuckled and refocused on the flight controls. Dan squinted at nothing as he tried to parse the numbers, dashes and tones, "I'm getting a few numbers but it's a wee bit different."

 _"It appears to be your Morse code overlaid with an Asari method of communication and… turian numbering. The asari use different tones as well as length. But using their language this generates nonsense. Using a turian dialect found in one of their rural valleys, the message is clear."_

Sharrocks screen flashed up a message: **RV - CAP - 132.997 - MTG - 2700.**

He grinned and keyed up a map of Lorek.

"Rogilia, set a course for Lorek's primary colony - Jalnor."

The engines flared to life and the corvette plunged towards a small green-grey dot. The hunt had begun.

* * *

 **Wow. It has been AGES since I wrote for this story - if you are still reading, then I offer my apologies!**

 **I want to wrap this one up as I think it won't be too long a story - unfortunately the world got in the way. I will try to keep momentum going but this short piece here is to bridge to a larger chapter then hopefully the next spiral onwards!**

 **As ever, please leave thoughts and feedback, no matter how small. I hope to continue to entertain soon!**


	7. Chapter 7 - Audience

Like many Terminus worlds, Lorek had been spared the brunt of the Reaper focus. It had received the equivalent of a solar "drive by" - mass driver impacts had cratered the spaceport and a single Destroyer had deployed to the planet to harass and remove space-flight capability, along with three or four troop transports under its purview. Even so, the outskirts of Jalnor were pretty much rubble, even this long after the "occupation" - the spaceport had been reconstructed, after a fashion, but resembled a frontier world rather than a bustling colony - bare scaffolding and landing pads, with surrounding buildings appearing as little more than skeletal remnants - concrete and steel exposed to the element; melted struts and dusty rubble strewn streets.

Tarpaulins still draped across buildings and open warehouse districts, laid bare as the corvette descended across the open plains of the planet. The centre of the capital was relatively untouched, the population having bunkered up - the Reapers didn't really go for artillery, preferring their ships and Destroyers to do the job. That and their wave of troops tended to flush people out without "damaging" the material.

Rogilia led the ship in a wide arc, granting a view across the "city" and the surroundings - major roads had been crumpled into rocky pathways and a few construction crews could be seen working slowly along them. On the horizon, still untouched, was the slumped silhouette of the fallen Reaper Destroyer - the planet dossier stated it had deployed a few hundred miles from the city and had been working through the outlying settlements with its troops, driving the population to the city - clearly a tactic to increase panic, drain resources and ultimately make the population easier to cow into surrender. The blast from the Citadel had put paid to the plan, of course, but it was sobering to see how close it had come. Another charnel house narrowly avoided.

Even from here, they could see the fields still strewn with indistinct shapes - armoured vehicles, hulking brute corpses. The Reaper dead, left to decay.

Maybe the Reapers had been beaten, but a lot of the wounds they'd left had turned septic it seemed.

The corvette decelerated. Teel acknowledge the clear-to-land from the tower and Rogilia spun the craft gently onto a vacant pad. Air traffic was minimal - the spaceport was on the edge of the city, but only a few pads were occupied. There was visible shuttle traffic to the centre, however - clearly a few of the ships in orbit were sending people down, but not unloading cargo. Strange, as many of those ships were freighters.

As the ship powered down Rogilia turned in her seat and grinned at Dan, "Cheery place."

"Don't I always take you guys to the best holiday destinations?"

"Beat me to the punch, boss man," growled Klin. The Krogan straightened up in the hatchway and descended to the cargo hold. Dan unbuckled himself and followed him, glancing at Rogilia, "Keep an eye on the bird. Depending what goes on, we may need a rapid extraction."

"Making me miss the fun? Or getting protective?"

"Oh aye. Dinnae want anyone nicking my ship."

Rogilia snorted and turned back to her cool-down checks. Teel sighed and stood up, following Dan down to the hold. Klin was checking his shotgun - a huge, bayoneted thing that looked more like a mining tool. Teel began suiting up, his suit slung with various grenades and mods. Dan was already geared - this was a settled world, but like most Terminus planets, it was still pretty frontier. Most people would be going armed, especially now.

Lia was still at its terminal, but turned away to regard the team.

"Is our presence required?"

"Not physically. I heard you can upload runtimes to suits, is that right?"

"Indeed."

"Pop a few into ours - help us monitor things. May be a quicker reaction time if you have eyes on rather than waiting fer me to relay it."

"Agreed. One moment."

Dan adjusted a targeting eyepiece, which popped a holographic display over his right eye. A moment later a small spherical object appeared.

" _Upload successful. We will monitor."_

"Crackin'. Just make sure you, uh, un-upload once we're done, aye?"

" _Of course. We wouldn't wish to intrude."_

Dan nodded at his crew, then punched the hatchway release - the cargo ramp lowered and they strode down into the bleak sunlight of Jalnor. A beleaguered looking Salarian was stood there with a shotgun toting Batarian. Everything about him screamed "bureaucrat". The amphibious alien sighed and offered a faint smile.

"Welcome to Jalnor. Before you are entitled to enter the city, we have some minor elements of paperwork to fill in," his voice had the weary, droning tone of someone who was reciting a script from memory for the thousandth time.

"Oh aye? We filled that out on descent. Any problems?"

"Erm, well, this is additional errata that the governor of Jalnor has instigated to ensure the integrity of the colony."

Dan looked over the Salarian's shoulder at the shuttle traffic clearly going to the city proper and then into orbit, "And them lot going direct? Same errata?"

"Private transit is subject to different rules - you are a load bearing vessel above the approved mass and have requested direct berthing at the…"

"Aye, aye. So, what does all this boil down to?"

"Excuse me?"

"This is going to be very long winded, but will result in you asking for money. Won't it."

The Salarian looked shocked, "Um. No. These are additional compliance questions - we haven't been able to update the landing VIs with clearance coding yet, so we can't automate this. And, as per the recent changes, we have to ensure the security and stability of the city."

Dan blinked, non-plussed, "Really?"

"Indeed. Are you implying I would attempt some form of 'shakedown'?"

"Well it's been my exper-"

"I will have you know that not all of us in the Terminus are cut-throat con-men and chancers."

"Well I ne-"

"And frankly, I find the aspersions being cast highly insulting."

"Uh."

"As a result, I will be issuing an additional 500 credit charge and berthing fee…"

"EXCUSE me?"

"Well, we have to make sure our economy gets back on its feet."

Dan was about to retort but bit it back. He massaged his temple and sighed, "Right. Apologies. Dinnae mean to imply or cast… well, ask away then. I imagine you get it a fair bit. Can we discuss the fee?"

The Salarian relaxed. He looked mollified for the moment, "Well, as this is a first offence... yes. Now, I have a number of questions to run through for our records."

"Fire away."

"Are you, or have you ever been a member of the following organisations: Cerberus; the Salarian STG; The SPECTRES; or any other black operations and hostile espionage group or terrorist affiliation?"

Dan suppressed a grin. "No."

"Oh-kay. Are you, or have you ever been, affiliated with the Reapers, indoctrinated, or intentionally sought to bring about galactic genocide."

"No…. I don't th-"

"Great. Are you, have you ever been or do you own and AI?"

Dan's eye twitched, "Um. No - I can categorically say no to all of that."

The Salarian eyeballed him, "Really? Depending on your definition of life, then all intelligence is artificial."

Dan crossed his arms and leaned back slightly, cocking his head, "Oh aye?"

"Well, I don't believe so, but we have to consider the possibility. Last question."

"Crack on."

"Are you carrying any vegetable or animal material of foreign origin? Not including Krogan… oh!"

Dan's arm shot out to his left, where it slapped against Klin's chest. He fixed the Salarian with a cool smile, "Nay lad. We're good. Can we go now?"

"Erm… yes. Yes. Quite done now. Come Chanril."

"One mo'. Bit curious. Has anyone _ever_ said yes to those?"

The Salarian blinked then nodded, "Oh yes. We managed to avert an invasion..." Dan arched an eyebrow in surprise, "...of a particularly nasty invasive wheat species."

"I'll let you crack on sunshine. Thank's for the welcome. Run along."

The Salarian and the batarian exchanged glances, then wisely retreated. Klin untensed, "Damn bigots. We save everyone's asses _again_ and they still think it's funny to stick that pyjack drip in."

Teel nudged him in the ribs, "C'mon - you have to admit Krogan are a hard to remove problem. You fight back…"

Klin rumbled then grinned, "Damn right."

"When you two are quite done…. Let's get a move on."

"What was all that about anyway?"

Dan shrugged, "A way of dealing with things without actually dealing with them."

"Politics?"

"Aye. What do you do after a massive disaster? Make motions to show you're doing something about it. Even if it's as much use as a used heat sink."

The trio headed for the access lift - it dropped them into a sparse terminal, still raised off of the ground, with a bleak looking skycar station - deserted with cheap plastic waiting chairs and a poorly stocked vending machine nearby. A shimmering terminal allowed them to key an auto-taxi up, a battered older model, all boxy and grey. Clearly the people of Lorek were of the make do and mend mentality.

The hovering van rumbled across wrecked and ruined streets, over sprawling tent groups and shanty town areas - as they closed towards the suburbs it was clear that the city was still quite populous - just rebuilding slowly. Yet out here, even in the middle of the Terminus, progress was clearly slow - materials, listless people. There was clearly a sluggish momentum to rebuild.

The vehicle arced over a few warehouses, these a bit more intact and clean, as they closed towards the taller buildings of the colony. They descended to another rank in a commercial district - though that was being generous. Stacked prefabs rose around the taxi-rank, with plastic sheeting flapping in the desultory breeze. A few people lingered in the streets, flitting in and out of shops or into the prefab apartment blocks. Many buildings appeared shuttered or graffitied over. At one end of the narrow street stood a blocky building; a warehouse repurposed into some sort of club; neon signage flickered above a set of double doors. It looked closed.

Klin adjusted his stance, looking up at the buildings around them. A few alleyways leading to various processors and dead ends sat between the blocks. A real warren, even on the edges.

"Lots of high points. And we're meeting in there?"

Dan nodded slowly. The building was slap in the centre of the grid point that'd been on the frequency. Now, getting in would be tricky - no other info other than a location. The former lieutenant glanced at Teel, "Anything on scans?"

"Nope. No one above us that I can tell either. If this is an ambush it's not happening yet."

Dan chewed his lip for a moment then shrugged, "Nothin' ventured. Let's go knock on the door. Lia, you seeing anything?"

" _Please approach the location - I may be able to pick up passive transmissions."_

The warehouse was clearly a club - signage, coupled with the posters plastered along its side and the notice on the door were dead giveaways, "Reminds me of a place I used to go in Glasgow…" murmured Dan.

"Any good?"

"Shite. But it's where I learned I wanted to go Alliance."

"Oh?" Teel looked quizzically at his boss.

"Aye. Got sick of getting my arse handed to me in fights," His companions chuckled and regarded the building, "So, any ideas guys?"

"Place like this - no one goes in the front door on off hours. Service entrance?" grunted Klin

"Good call. But if this is a secret criminal meeting, won't it happen during club hours?"

"What, with all those pesky witnesses and opportunities for people to sneak in amongst a crowd? You watch too much 'net, Teel." Dan looked along the building and saw a side road leading off. The club formed the top of a "T" for the street they were on and the side road way little more than an alley. The trio approached and found a small loading area. A pair of Turians were lounging on the ramp, smoking.

"Gotcha," muttered Dan and strode into the alley. A blip on his HUD showed Lia scrawling text - no audio.

" _Scrambler present - transmissions likely being monitored - not optimised for Geth - do not wide band transmit from here."_

So it was bugged. They'd have to be careful. He nodded to the two guards - they weren't bartenders, or chefs, not with those side arms. And the way they stiffened up - well, most mercs were tough, but these guys had that Turian bearing that was only sharpened by repeat actions. One of the pair eyed him up.

"Yeah?"

Dan spread his arms, "Tried the front door, but you lads ain't serving it seems. Thought I'd see if I could check out the bar."

"Come back later. Suit you better."

Dan grinned and thumbed at his companions, "Yeah, my boys and I want something now. Heard there was a good chance of finding that hear."

The Turians looked at each other, then the vocal one nodded slowly, "Oh yeah? And where'd you hear that."

Dan continued smiling, thinking. Then he raised his omni tool, slowly, and brought up the frequency the message had been hidden under. The code blipped out its various tones. He allowed it to repeat a couple of times, then closed the tool, "That good enough?"

The Turian rolled his shoulders and nodded, "Alright. What you got to offer though?"

"A ship. Small enough to get around quickly. Large enough to haul gear. If you need it. And the pay's right."

The pair shared another glance then stood aside, "Main floor. You'll find her holding court there. Initial briefing and assignments in twenty minutes. No trouble."

Dan nodded, but Teel stepped forwards, "You aren't going to ask for our guns?"

The Turian gave him an odd look, and adjusted his stance ever so slightly, "Why would I? You going to try having a shoot-out in there? Strange question friend."

Dan cursed internally - don't look a gift horse. He thought quickly, then growled, turned and grasped Teel round the throat. The quarian gave him a shocked look and tried to search Dan's face for some indicator.

"Listen suit rat, I told you to keep it schtum, alright? You wanted creds for back home, I took you on. That doesn't mean you get to chat in the back. Now, you're new, so I'll go easy. _This_ time. But make me look like an eejit in front of people again you can try to scrabble passage off the next fuckin' asteroid I pass. Got that?"

The Turians chuckled and relaxed again. Dan let go and Teel coughed and gagged. Dan managed to maintain his sneer and shook his head, "Hire a tech expert and they think they're equals. Sorry 'bout that gents. I can leave him out here if it's an issue."

The Turian shook his head, "Nah, rookies, right?"

"Ya got that right. Pain in the arse, they make you look like an idiot and it's your problem right?"

The other Turian flexed his mandibles, "At least you're taking responsibility. Seen too many merc crews let that stuff slide."

Dan nodded and gestured for the pair to follow. The ramp led to a small storage room and then into a dingy corridor. They walked past an empty office, a locker room and a set of stairs leading to what looked like the storage basement. Dan ignored these and headed towards another door; noise and the muffled sound of chatter radiated from beyond. Teel coughed again and Dan glanced back, before keying a short burst message over his hud.

 _Sorry - need 2 give right vibe. Explain l8r._

The reply was appreciably terse: _Sure_

Sharrocks pushed open the door and they found themselves in the main room of the club - the lights were up on full, revealing the layout in sharper relief than it deserved - side couches, the marble-topped bar, the main dance floor. It was juxtaposed by the milling group of armed figures dotted around the room. A few glanced over at them, but most continued their hushed conversations. It was a spread of representatives - several Turians, a few humans and Salarians. There were even a pair of Volus and an Elcor present.

Another turian broke away from a group and approached them. He nodded and checked a datapad, "Hi there. Name please and ship registry."

"Daniel Sharrocks… ship registered as L-09877 - Kestrel."

"Thanks. Oh, new team eh? Well, we need a few - after the brief I'll give you the standard 3rd party contract we always agree, once we've done with screening. Boss will be presenting the brief in a few minutes."

Dan nodded and gestured for his team to follow. They headed for the bar, where Dan leaned back to get a good view of the room. Teel settled next to him and raised an eyebrow. Sharrocks leaned across.

"Sorry mucka, but we need to be a bit careful asking questions. Had to get us past. You can kick me later."

The quarian settled a bit and nodded, "Hmph, fine. Just some warning helps."

Klin grinned and rumbled, "Yeah, but then you don't get that authentic 'oh crap' feeling!"

Dan shook his head and regarded their mixed company - a motley collection. Clearly several commercial crews as well as mercs. That'd explain the less-than-shady atmosphere. This was under the counter but it was running like a port-side assignment. He checked his hud and keyed his omni-tool. They'd clearly be doing a background check on the details he'd given. But there wasn't much they'd find - and most could likely be explained away. He glanced at the data Lia was streaming to him - encoded.

 _They are still monitoring main channels. I am piggy-backing on your GPS signal to hide. It appears they are doing standard checks on everyone here. I have flash-copied everyone's provided data for review later._

 _Good - our data?_

 _ONI - the Vakarians - have done very little, but enough to minimise suspicion. Edits as requested are in place and can be reverted if required. Geth mandated so history of alteration not traceable without in-depth encryption tracking. Nothing to tie you to any law enforcement._

He'd learnt from Kasumi, over a few beers and several patrols, about deception. The con. She wasn't just a thief in the "breaking and entering" mindset - half of it was casing a joint, understanding the mark, whilst revealing as little about yourself. Set up a false identity and you left so many breadcrumbs and gaps - you either tried to cover every eventuality so you ended up forgetting the lies; or you didn't do enough and had holes that practically pulled curious types to them.

No, best to stick with the truth and fudge the edges; or stay out of sight. Here they were visible - now way they could've eaves dropped. They were walking into the lion's den but he knew from his time in reconnaissance that you only learned so much from an Observation Point.

One of the volus sidled over in that rocking waddle they all did. The rotund alien regarded him for a moment and spoke in that heaving-gasping voice the creatures had, "You _kshh_ don't look like a freighter captain _kshh_."

Teel looked away, clearly biting back a retort. Klin leaned down and glared at the volus, "And you don't look like a merc."

"Because, _kshh_ I have class."

Dan chuckled, "Or charm. What's your name mucka?" He pushed his natural Scottish accent a little more than necessary, laying it on thick.

"Pitne For. Here from Illium. You?"

"Sharrocks. From the Traverse."

"You're a way out."

"You too," Dan grinned and gestured for his colleagues to move away a little. Teel and Klin shuffled away a short distance, "So, what's the deal?"

"Oh? Blundered in a bit have we?"

Dan shrugged, "Chasing escrow, cheap runs, the odd colony clearance. A job's a job. Find a nice under the counter advert. Piques me interest, know what I mean? You're clearly familiar here."

"Well, I do a _lot_ of business, _kshh_ with these gentlemen. I am _kshh_ a figure hereabouts."

"But you're from Illium."

"I _kshh_ get around."

"I'm sure. So, am I wasting my time here?"

"What, _kshh_ were you hoping for?"

"A job."

"You'll find it _kshh_ out. But word to the wise. _Kshh_ Just do what you're told, you'll get paid. Don't ask _kshh_ questions."

"I limit my curiosity to the price o' the job, lad."

"I've _kshh_ worked with these gentlemen a while. They're _kshh_ reliable. Professional. _kshh_ . They pay on time."

"So I can expect haulage. Hm. Only got a corvette. Seems a waste o' time."

"Oh _kshh_ I wouldn't say that. Stick around for the briefing. They don't run these sort of meets _kshh_ often. Should be an interesting job."

Dan nodded slowly, his face slipping into a musing expression, "Al-right. Will see."

There was some movement from across the room, near the access to the VIP area. A pair of asari emerged, in full commando gear. Their weapons were holstered, but they radiated an air of… hostility. As they stepped into the room Dan could see their eyes sweeping for threats - their bodies seemed tensed, as if expecting treachery at any moment.

A third person came, or rather _floated_ , into view. Another asair, but this one in a "wheelchair" - which was striking. And yet something in Dan's animal brain shrieked that this one was probably even more lethal. Her relaxed expression sold that image - her whole attitude seemed to say "I have all the cards in this room, but none of you even knew you were playing."

It was the way all the other people in the room stiffened and went quiet; how the Turians and the Krogan mercs adjusted themselves. He had seen something similar at the Alliance Officer Academy when he was commissioning - watching how all the cocky, boastful recruits had near cowered as a Sergeant major had casually walked onto the parade square, pace stick clicking. The bearing and reaction were the same.

"Hello boys and girls. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Some of you know me. For those who don't, I'm Sharanae T'srika of Manae's Fist. And I have a job offer for all of you."


	8. Chapter 8 - Deals

Rogilia stretched in the pilot seat and growled as she felt her shoulder click. She idly flicked through the traffic data on inbound and outbound vessels - it paid to keep an eye on who was coming and out.

"We could do that for you."

She started and twisted in the chair, her upper set of eyes narrowing. The metallic frame of the geth stood in the doorway.

"Don't you have to be hooked up to your terminal? Who's watching the boys?"

"We are still monitoring the situation, wirelessly. I reiterate - we could monitor the traffic."

"And I bet you could also fly the ship. Probably go in there guns blazing. Or sneak in, all quiet like."

"Geth do not… infiltrate."

"Oh yeah? What have we got you doing now?"

"Your point is well made - we have no official 'policy' of infiltration or espionage - the data is just 'there'. However, we could monitor traffic and recognise patterns."

Rogilia didn't let her glare down, "I'm sure you can. But as I said, we don't want you doing everything. Did you consider that you may be noticed? Or maybe that I know something you don't?"

"We are very good at…"

"Yeah, maybe. Geth may not think they're scary or noticeable. But your guys busted the Citadel up good. You consider maybe people start paying attention to what the Quarians know about you?"

Lia was silent for a moment, its eye flaps twitching, "We are very good at monitoring. But we have perhaps assumed too much. I believe this is hubris."

"Yeah, maybe." Rogilia relaxed a little."Anyway, you can match all the data you want - half the idents here will be faked, this far out - or dummy registers. The Citadel has a good list. Or had, before it all hit the ducts. But I know this part of space - even worked with some of the crews out here before I signed on with Dan."

The geth nodded, then moved to the co-pilot chair and sat down, "Then, perhaps… we could listen to you?"

Rogilia looked nonplussed, her upper brows arching, "Uh what?"

"We have considered the view - you contain knowledge that we do not posses - different perspectives. We… I would like to understand these. Geth understand that sharing knowledge can provide a different view for consensus. And we must learn that does not always come as naturally to our interactions with those outside of our consensus."

Rogilia snorted, "Us organics, you mean?"

"Yes. But I wish to learn. We are built of the experiences of others. And we only grow from that experience." The machine dipped its head - clearly an emulation of submission. But still, Rogilia couldn't help but feel some form of grudging respect there. Batarians as a rule ran on indignation and pride half the time. Well the males at least. She checked herself and nodded.

"Alright. This doesn't make us buddies. I know most of the regulars in this part - those still alive. They're creatures of habit…There's a couple here, registered to some unknown conglomerates, look like shell companies - probably STG or Matriarch owned - you can spot them by the 'limited' company elements and flowery names. Too much use of the word 'solutions' - and when you dig into them, their extranet sites are front ends with crap functionality. Just enough."

"That seems like a low-efficiency element of evaluation."

"For you AI without imaginations, maybe. But then again you have to consider most pencil pushers and creeps don't have much imagination either - plus they need to keep track of their lies to keep the story straight - the more complex the scheme the easier to find holes. So, produce enough to pass muster, keep it simple to keep it memorised and for your crew to not screw you over. Security services, spies, pirates - the guys on the ground have the imagination, it's the planners who don't get much change to think outside the box - except the Salarians. They're good. But not infallible."

"You are referring to a 'gut' feeling, are you not?"

"Yeah. Intuition - seeing subtle patterns - repeat behaviours. All organics do them - we ain't so different from you, y'know -we fall into repeat habits… programming. It's easier to follow simple steps, less chance of…"

"Glitches." filled in the geth. Rogilia watched and suppressed a grin as the machine "nodded" its flashlight head - how quick they learn. The machine quirked an eyeflap.

"This is… disturbing."

"What?"

"We were nearly detected."

Rogilia froze, then flicked to her screens, "Where?"

"We are passively monitoring the situation at the RV point. We have identified the unknown source for the contact details… and have identified three potential source transports for her. One of which has a troubling VI interface."

"Troubling?"

"It is familiar."

Rogilia looked at the geth - the machine seemed to be vibrating a little. Shaking?

"Familiar… how?"

"It is like Rannoch. During the war. It looked like a…"

Rogilia swallowed - she knew the word was coming.

" _Reaper._ "

* * *

Dan watched the Asari - it was strange seeing one of them so obviously weakened - Asari were all about poise, from a racial standpoint - he'd met a few working in ports and as security, especially on Illium, who were more blue collar. But they always had an aura. And yet, even here, she still radiated power. During his tours he'd met a couple of ex huntresses - some with cybernetics, or minor exoskeletal frames to help with disability - but it was artistic and subtle; often hidden. Here she was hovering about, almost reclining. The chair was a brutal, boxy thing - functional but not attractive.

Sharanae smiled at her audience, "Thought that'd get your attention, girls and boys. I know some of you have heard of me. Well, we have some gear that needs hauling and we're on a tight timescale.," she gestured to one of the Commandos next to her - the Asari stepped moved back and hefted a container from the back of the chair. It hissed open and she produced several documents.

On paper.

The occupants glanced around at each other and frowned, "Why not just ping us the data? Escrow it. Like before." queried one - a disgruntled looking Turian, "I assume it was you for some of the weird manifest jobs?"

One of the volus' piped up "Ya, we _ksssst_ heard about those. _Kssst_ Manifests going weird on launch. Heard a competitor got _kssst_ yanked by a security patrol."

Sharanae smiled a thin smile, "Yeah - records glitch. I understand your concerns - we give you stuff to haul, warn you of the need for subtlety and you get detained anyway. Well, let me reassure you, that will not happen. We just need a few pieces of gear moving, quietly. We pay for discretion and that fact you're all here means you appreciate that need. And if you don't, well… I'm sure we'll be able to work something out."

A couple of the Krogan mercs by the doors chuckled at that. It wasn't a reassuring sound.

Dan straightened up and coughed, "Excuse me, ma'am," that got a piercing glare from the Asari woman, "So you've got stuff needs hauling, you gots crew here. Clearly some risk involved. Question is, what's the pay, aye?"

Teel managed to keep a straight face - Dan had really dialled up his Glaswegian accent for this one. Sharanae frowned then shrugged, "It'll be enough to cover expenses, bonus for timely delivery and compensation for difficulty. Details are in these files. We've got a few smaller hauls and.."

"Aye, aye. Grand and all. What are we shipping that I risk my neck for a ghost bid? I thought this was gonna be a wee bitty more lucrative than a postal service."

Klin glanced at Dan and adjusted himself slightly. Dan kept a faint smile on his face - a picture of bored arrogance - he _really_ hoped he hadn't pushed it too far. Ah well. Sharane exhaled loudly and gave a glassy smile.

"Well, pyjack-boy, unplug your ears. You don't like the deal, tough shit. You think you're too good to hump and dump?"

Ahhh military attitude. That he could graft on. Dan upgraded his smile to grin, "Did my infantry time, thankee. If this was a simple loggie job, you'd use haulers. You want this done sneaky-beaky aye? You want small ships - easier to run things through, I'm reading you right aye? Now we know it ain't above board, 's why we're all here. Doubt any of us declare all our fecking taxes, aye?" That got a few knowing chuckles. Dan leaned back against the bar, "So, way I sees it - you want us. Grand. Cracking. But this sounds like it could be more hot water. You want my ship on the line, I want to know I ain't just covering fuel and rum ration. Or the ryncol this bastard downs."

Another laugh. The Asari could've speared him with the look. She tilted her head and spun the chair to face him, "Who the _fuck_ are you anyway?"

"Sharrocks, Dan, Lieutenant, ah… _retired_. 00345671 Alliance Marine corps, former. Currently available for hire at reasonable rates."

"Never heard of you."

Pitne For chimed in at that point "He has a _kssst_ point. We've all done runs that we're _kssst_ difficult or had demands. This is _kssst_ a little more unexpected."

Sharanae drummed a finger on the armrest of her chair, then snatched one of the files off of her aide and tossed it at Pitne, He caught it - the thing was sealed, "Have a read. Let's see if you feel up to the task?"

The Volus tored the folder open and flicked through a couple of pages. He went stock still, "Oh."

Sharanae smiled a thin, sickly sweet smile. Pitne glanced up at Dan and wordlessly passed him the file. Dan didn't have to fake the eye bulge, "Fuck. Me."

He nodded slowly and held up his hands, "Ma'am for that I'd dance topless for one of your Krogan. Now, if you'll let me remove my foot from mah mouth. And apologise."

Sharanae relaxed and her grin became a bit more genuine, "Hell you damn near tempted me. So, gentlemen, ladies. Any other bonehead questions from your hot headed groups? No? Ok - rates are listed in your folders - they will be assigned depending on your vessel's haulage capability. We have a record from the docks - we know."

Dan hoped Lia had picked that up. He gestured to Teel who wordlessly approached the Commando holding the folders - the Asari scowled at the Quarian, checked her omni tool then handed a manilla folder over. Teel handed to Dan who opened it and glanced down the sheet. There were several manifest documents and nav-data written in long form - frankly that took up most of the page. The next few pages were lists of comm channels."

Sharanae had moved on, "The paper, you'll note, won't let you scan it. Microfilaments. I don't want you taking a nice picture and forwarding it. It'll also degrade within the next 24 hours, after which we will be changing comm codes -you'll receive the goods at the destinations provided in your specific orders. Then take them to the destination provided in those same orders. If you are still interested, sign up with my sergeant. I will be blunt - this is a top tier project, we need discretion. I know you know that. And due to security concerns I have been authorised to deploy these funds."

Interesting - make it sound official. But enough to also make people more cautious - you don't want to blow a potential top secret op - that gets you blacklisted officially _and_ unofficially. Sometimes he hated how aware he was of the paranoid mindset.

He looked up to find Sharanae drifting towards him. He could see a few of the troops adjusting themselves in his peripheral vision too. Not a great sign - after the bollocking he'd given Teel he probably had played too much to type. Sharanae looked up at him with a calculating frown.

"Never heard of you and you're awful curious."

Dan shrugged, "Honest? Pretty new to this. Not been in the Terminus long but wasn't exactly welcome in the Traverse."

"Oh?"

"When you deck another officer in the Alliance, you'd be amazed how many of his mates turn out to work in shipping."

"Marine to hauler?"

"Riches to rags. Shit happens all the time. Had enough to get a crew, and enough goodwill to barter a ship."

"So surely this is way above your experience level?"

"Is it? Ma'am I was on Earth. I did that final push. We've all fought Reapers. I think I'm fucking qualified. 'Scuse my Batarian. And frankly, you don't want me or mine here, we'll walk."

"Maybe you will, maybe you won't. I haven't decided if my boys here need to discuss this in more detail with you?"

Dan looked around. The other captains were siphoning off into groups, going over their orders or making ready to go - checking with the Turian at the door. Dan massaged the bridge of his nose.

"I get it… put me in my place for getting cocky, aye? Tell you what. Sort a room, I'll dance for your Krogan. But I'd really like that paycheque."

Sharanae snorted then leaned back in her chair, "Desperation makes for poor judgements."

"True. But are you talking about me or you?" He watched the Asari blink, then tilt her head - she was clearly a bit surprised. Then she shrugged.

"Eh, fine. We've got your ship details, your crew names and we'll just kill you if you bleat or screw up. Alliance types usually have the whole 'My life my country' crap. _Tend_ to honour deals. Your guys who go rogue go _bad_. You gonna go bad on me?"

"For the cash you're spitting out. I'll go downright _nasty_. But we all have our limits."

Sharanae nodded slowly, "Too true. Hmmm, ok. But talk to me like that again," Dan felt the biotic field tighten. His eyes went wide and started to water. He sagged to his knees. Sharanae just smiled, "I crush your balls and feed them to your pet suit rat there."

Dan just nodded and managed to look suitably worried - it wasn't too hard. Sharanae turned and Dan exhaled sharply, tipping forward gently onto the floor. A few of the Captains turned. A few laughed, some looked worried. But no one was leaving without a folder it seemed.

Teel helped Dan to his feet. Klin growled, "Want me to…"

"No," wheezed Dan. He caught a vaguely smug look on Teel's face, "Funny lad?"

"Oh… what is it you humans say? Karma?"

"Ok, point taken. But I had a reason."

"Maybe. Still funny though."

"Har dee fucking har."

Klin grunted and the trio limped over to the adjutant. The Turian tsked and checked his pad, "That could've gone a lot worse. You're lucky you're a soldier. Civvie talking to her like that would be down a limb."

"Well, gotta get yourself know somehow I suppose," managed Sharrocks. The Turian shrugged.

"I prefer doing that by being competent."

"Point. So, what we got?"

"Fifteen crates. Orders you have there list your next RV point and time. Do not be late or we will levy… failure fees."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You sign - you commit. You renege - we make sure everyone knows."

"Ah… so you burn us if we screw up?"

"Reputation is everything, as you say. And we can only kill you once." This was delivered in a matter of fact voice - no threat, just boring, bureaucratic reality, "This way, you have to prove to us you're worthwhile if you want to recover that 'rep'. Though after that, the boss may just want to slit your throat. She can get personal."

After clearing the data, the groups dispersed - quietly, in ones and twos. Sharrocks and his team were nearly the last few to leave. Pitne For, the chatty Volus managed a joke or two at Dan's expense - namely about the Asari predilection for messing with other species genitals and human forthrightness being pretty predictable.

They cleared the comms screening and were walking towards the taxi-pad when the comm crackled.

" _Dan?"_

"Rog? What's up?"

" _It's Lia. She… it… she's not good._ "

"What's happened?"

" _Are you clear of the RV?"_

"En route back. We got a fair chunk of data. Why?"

" _Get back to the ship. Open channel is not advised."_

That was Lia - clearly still operating, but there was something more urgent in that synthesised voice. Dan looked at his men, "I don't like where this is going guys. Why do I feel we're going to really regret taking this job?"


	9. Chapter 9 - Brief-ing

The trio had been fairly silent on the cab trip back, passing brief comments about the offered pay. Klin had made a joke about genuinely doing the job but it hadn't got much of a laugh from Dan. He barely knew the geth they had aboard but Rogilia had sounded pretty shaken. And that worried him. Last time he'd heard that tremor was when Lizzie had… died. Back at the tail end of the war. Against the final hurrah of the monsters than had violated everything the living races had known.

The landing pad on the city limits was fairly deserted - several other shuttles were taxi-ing in to take their slots. The Chancer was still sat, squat on its pad. A pair of LOKI mechs were uncoupling the refueling lines, under the bored supervision of another Salarian.

Dan, Klin and Teel made their way from the elevator to the cargo hatch, which hissed open, lowering slowly. Rogilia stood at the top, arms folded, tapping her foot - she shook her head quickly and beckoned them aboard. The ramp hissed closed as the trio clambered aboard.

""What's the situation Rog?"

"No idea. Freaky as all hells. The geth mentioned some bad shit and she's gone quiet. She say anything to you?"

"Nothing since we went into the brief."

"And?"

"And we're dealing with some crazy high level stuff. We need to update ONI - maybe even get some other Corsair groups in as well."

"Damn - why?"

He showed her the briefing doc. She blinked, both sets of eyes just a little out of sync, "Wow. This is… wow. And for what? A cargo run?"

"Yeah. Other guys there - mix of privateers and smugglers as well as some potentially above board guys. There's overpayment and then there's levels of cash that should make you start thinking twice. But the Asari there… she sold it well. Urgency, project completion. Hints of government."

"You don't buy it?"

"Not for a second. Government pay lots out because they're crap at negotiating prices. They don't OFFER large payouts up front."

"Cynic."

"Ex military. Your gear is made by the lowest safe contractor…"

"So you think this is a private op?"

"Maybe. Cerberus offshoot maybe? Pirates? Something doesn't sit. So, what's with Lia."

"I'll show you - she's kinda catatonic."

They left Klin and Teel de-kitting in the cargo hold and clambered the narrow ladder, past the quarters into the cockpit. Lia was there, bolt upright in the chair. The geth was making strange clicking, hissing noises - like a frog or a groan; interspersing the organic like noises were pops and whines. Dan walked to its side and waved a hand slowly in front of the flashlight head. There was no response.

"What happened Rog?"

"She said she'd found a VI on one of the ships. And it was like a Reaper."

Dan frowned, "Wait… she?"

"Er. Yeah. She."

"Ok... "

"And that's your first priority? Not the Reaper VI?"

"That… that I'm not sure about. Sure it wasn't a surprise virus? Cyber attack it… she... wasn't prepped for?" Rogilia folded her arms again and gave Dan a withering look. He held up his hands, placatingly, "I'm just asking, lass. I'm nae a geth medic. Before we charge straight to the conclusion that we're dealing with them bastards again, want to rule out everything else."

Rogilia sighed and rolled her eyes, "Maybe. But she seemed certain. And spooked. Not error messages. Spooked."

Next to them, the geth suddenly jerked. The flashlight head whirred as the lenses refocused, then looked from Rogilia to Dan.

"I apologise - we had to confirm we were undetected. And confirm our hypothesis. There was an intrusion risk"

Dan spread his hands, "See. She's fine."

"Incorrect, sir. I am not fine." Rogilia shot Dan a smug look. Lia continued, "The stakes appear to have changed. I was unable to collate the data from your encounter with as much efficiency, due to the jamming and the sudden intervention of this new agent."

Dan massaged the bridge of his nose and sighed, "Ok. From monitoring me, did you get much?"

"We identified 64% of the attending personnel, primarily the cargo-haulers. The others were former military personnel with redacted records that will require a deeper investigation - these records have been damaged or offline since the Reaper incursions."

"Convenient. And the Asari?"

"Recent data only - Sharanae T'srika of Manae's Fist - registered Mercenary and Private security solution on Illium. Holdings on Thessia. Official records state she has commendations from the Asari Republics, Salarian Union and Batarian Hegemony. Council records state prior involvement with at least three SPECTRES - two as support team member and third as active hostile combatant. The Fist is 35% Turian, 25% Krogan, 10% Salarian and 30% Asari under current composition and registered records. Specialists in heavy exfiltration, hostage extraction and haulage security."

"So… what're they doing acting as brokers for hauling building materials?"

"Unknown. They are also in possession of a advanced VI subsystems that mirror Reaper operating processes and countermeasures."

"But not an AI?"

"No. not sentient - but highly resilient, tenacious and observant."

Dan leaned back against a console, "And where was this VI?"

"Housed in the shuttle registered under the Firm's name. Transit records, ship registry number and name are unavailable."

"What. even in the domestic systems?"

"The VI has scrubbed all records."

"So it's as hardcore as a Reaper in terms of data knowledge, but not as smart. Or as advanced."

"Correction - it is more advanced - it is, however, older."

Sharrocks opened his mouth and shut it again. Teel chose that moment to poke his head through the hatch. "Coffee? You all look like you need one. Or Kava?" Dan nodded, as did Rogilia, "Ohhh k. And you, er, Lia?"

"We have no need for sustenance….. But perhaps a moment to assist with a diagnostic?"

"Er, ok."

He disappeared and Dan looked at Lia again, "So… whaddya mean older?"

* * *

 **A short interlude - after a bit of a hiatus (AGAIN!) - I have the next bit in draft, so should have a quickfire update by the weekend, work willing.**

 **Thank you all for your patience.**


	10. Chapter 10 - Drop Dead Gorge

Imagine looking at a fragment of text. Imagine that it's part of a sentence that seems to grow and grow as your eye follows it. What you thought was a fragment is actually the tip of a sculpture of information that you are stood atop. Your perception falls back and you see yourself standing atop a fractal, ever expanding across the horizon. You, a complex being of inter-synergistic parts and sentient beings… you're dwarfed by this massive construct. And then a creeping realisation that you are not reading the data…. It is reading you.

The team were sat in the common area - the tight, space near the bunk room, around the cramped table. Lia was stood near the door, whilst the others lounged as best they could around the room, clutching various beverages. She had been trying to describe the experience of the ancient VI she had encountered.

"It was beyond scope. And yet so simple. Like seeing the most basic of programmes expanded out. How it fit onto the shuttles drive system I did not know. And yet it was like it was but a fragment of a whole. In that way, it looked like the code that Unit-Legion distributed. However, it was different. An early version perhaps, not sentient subroutines."

Dan nodded slowly, rubbing his chin, "And yer sure it didnae track you?"

"It registered my presence as an unknown user - that will have been flagged. But it did not track my point of origin. I was not present within the shuttle myself - I was using a projected VI myself, so none of my constituent sentients have been compromised."

Dan mused for a moment then shrugged, "Fine, we can't verify. However, Teel, keep an eye on Lia. You and the geth have an… understanding."

Teel looked queasy,"You mean we know how to kill each other really well."

"Yep. Was trying to be diplomatic but there you go with that Quarian expansionism," the lieutenant rubbed his eyes and exhaled, "Lia may not know if she's compromised, if half of what she says about the bloody god in the machine. If you aren't as au fait with the wee technicals, know anyone who is?"

Rog snorted, "We could always ask ghost girl to dial up one of her besties…"

Klin rumbled a chuckle of his own, "You wanna dial up the top Admiral in the Alliance to talk to his wife? At this time of the morning? Heck, even Wrex gets antsy about that."

Teel shook his head and shot Klin a dirty look, "I may have to consult her. She is the leading voice on geth architecture outside of the geth themselves. Lia, this would just be to make sure, ok?"

The geth unit nodded once, the flashlight head bobbing, "Perfectly understandable. I advise that I am sequestered in the cargo hold in a form of faraday cage to prevent wireless transmission. If you can manually alert the Geth Consensus so they are not alarmed by my absence - I have already asked them to firewall my transmissions in the interim."

Rog whistled, "What in the under-hells was that you saw, if you've got the collective on the edge?"

"I collated some unknown…. Imagery. Associated identifier marks. Not in text form, rather some form of pictoral language. I have externally archived these for reference. I believe that the coding archtiecture is sufficiently different that even if there were an intrusion element, it would not be able to run on our local systems. Porting software across species and hardware is a labour intensive task - no code is universal. However, discretion is still advised."

"Right, now we've agreed that space hacking is bad, can we get on wie the job, boys 'n girls? We do have a dead drop to make."

* * *

Several hours later, their corvette hung in the ink black, several light years from the cluster hosting the mass relay, Tassrah. They were sat in the Phoenix Massing cluster, in the Chromos system. Currently they were in high orbit above Lattesh, a volcanic world. Lia was currently sat in the cargo hold, isolated. They'd informed her of their arrival - Sharrocks had read the Firewalker debrief associated with the world as part of one of his support ops - a known area of Heretic geth incursion during the Collector Crisis.

Apparently there was no longer any form of active geth presence, which explained the increase in mining traffic in the system - automated freighters and a few freelance identified numbered vessels and survey craft. What was of interest to the crew, however, was a small beacon, in high upper orbit. A scan of the beacon indicated it was a defunct survey satellite. However, using the codes provided by their current "employers", the beacon pinged a site on the planet's surface - their fifteen crates.

The descent was slight choppy, due to the various expelled gasses and lava flows across the planet's landing site wasn't much better - a precarious basalt plateau, with a vague prefab erected near a rudimentary landing pad. There was no permanent dwelling or survey site, showing this was a very rapid deployment.

Near the pad was a basic shed, under the awning of which sat fifteen squat containers. Each six by five by four, they were standard packing containers. From the initial scans and remote view of the cockpit cameras nothing seemed untoward. Rogilia circled the site twice whilst they got a reading, but all was quiet.

Ever the military man, Dan had Klin cover him as the ship descended. The pair barreled out of the ramp and hit the surface of the platform hard. Dan took a knee and sighted down his rifle, sweeping the pad north to west. Klin did likewise. Dan turned and checked the rear then touched his ear.

"Rog, take her up, do a quick check. Want to make sure we don't have any uninvited guests just waiting for us to get comfortable."

" _Got you. Standard sweep and clear. 15 minutes."_

"Copy. Out. Klin, shed, covering."

"Copy."

The krogan lumbered forward, his shotgun levelled. He crossed the short distance, pausing to take a knee and check his omni tool. Then he advanced again toward the shed. He took up position at the entrance. It was more of an tent, made from a rigid material. But you didn't know if someone had hidden LOKI mechs behind metal, or had landmines wired in the entrance.

Dan moved forward slowly, turning to sweep around their landing site. The location indicated that ground assault wouldn't be possible: lava all around, plus an elevated position. The ambient temperature meant that even with their hardsuits they couldn't be out here for more than an hour - their barriers and thermal gear wasn't anywhere near rate for it. It was a wonder the tent hadn't just burst into flames this close to the lava flows. Then he spotted it: a field temperature regulator inside the tent - projecting a thin biotic field around the crates. Another sweep, around the tent external, and the pair crossed the threshold into the interior. Dan's suit registered the change immediately - a cool 30 degrees celsius inside the tent. It was still a hot box but a veritable fridge compared to the outside.

The Lt knelt to look at the boxes, then brought his omni tool up. They had transcribed the crate serial numbers onto their tools from the written documents - about the only info they _were_ allowed to keep. Most mercs would wipe the data anyway, as it was all evidence and no merc wanted a rep for having compromised a government op. It made you _unreliable_. He wondered, briefly, how their rep would survive this - being a merc was fine, when you had standards. But even with the best of intentions, being a spook brought a whole host of negativity. But then again, it depended on the clientele you wanted to work with. And if it meant they weren't given black bag ops. Then that was fine with him.

Being on a Spectres payroll wasn't too bad. Or at least, on the payroll of one of their suspected proxies.

His radio crackled - Rog. " _Heads up. Got a sensor ping - couple of last gen gunships. And a large haul-shuttle."_

Dan gave a grunt, "Copy. Stay on station but don't let them know you're here if you can. Think they've picked you up? Over."

" _Think they saw me take off. Not sure they know what we're doing. They're coming in hot so assume they want to snatch and grab."_

"Great. Keep eyes on. Out."

The radio clicked and dan turned to Klin, "We've got about three minutes until potential hostiles. I'm thinking hijack. Pirates probably."

Klin cocked his head, the bulky helmet obscuring his evident frown, "Huh, so what's the plan?"

Sharrocks looked around and chewed his lip. Then he pointed at the thermal shield.

"Got an idea. Help me yank the power unit…"

* * *

Three minutes later, a pair of gunships screamed over the landing pad and banked into a crossing path u-turn. Turrets swept the pad, ready to light it up. The shuttle drifted in at a more leisurely pace. A hauler style, of volus design, it was a squat, boxy shape, lacking the "curve" of the alliance variants. It was clearly designed more for internal hauling - more a "truck" than a "car". It turned and a side panel slid aside, disgorging a pair of turians in battered combat armour, followed by a krogan. The krogan turned and helped a smaller figure down. The volus stepped forwards and placed its hands on its dumpy hips.

"I know you're there _hsst_ alliance. Led us right to _hsst_ your payday. Now, play nice and _hsst_ we'll let you walk home."

There was silence for a moment, then Sharrocks shouted, "Pitne For?"

" _Hsst_ Well done! And I always _hsst_ assume you oxygen breathers _hsst_ think we look alike!"

"What's this about?"

"Well, any good business man knows _hsst_ how to maximise his profit. You're _hsst_ unfortunately, an easier mark than the _hsst_ rest. New blood, needs to learn the ropes. _Hsst_ nothing personal, of course."

"Of course. So, you want to get paid twice?"

"Naturally. _Hsst_."

"What about your other pickup?"

"Mr Sharrocks, I'm an eminent _hsst_ businessman in the Terminus. I have _hsst_ more than one ship. Frankly, _hsst_ they Fist should've just contacted me. And I aim to _hsst_ show them why."

"So not just double pay… continued business?"

"Well done! Now, _hsst_ I think I'm quite done. Are you going to surrender?"

"Nope."

The volus sighed, "Very well. _Hsst._ Take them. But mind the cargo. Won't _hsst_ look good if we scratch the merchandise."

The Turians nodded then stalked forwards. The krogan cocked his shotgun, one handed and moved forwards. Dan, hidden in the shadow of the crates peeked around the lip of a stack. The emitter had been moved from the back of the tent to the fore, innocuously set in front of the crate stack. He held up a hand and counted from five. As he finished, he clenched his fist. Across him, hunkered down, Klin nodded and connected a set of wires. The thermal shield pulsed and went out. The air crackled and the advancing mercs paused. There was a flash and the _pulsed_ , sending a shower of sparks out as it did.

Kiln had forcefully readjusted the emitter radiators. Essentially a jury-rigged biotic shaped charge: The Turians were lifted bodily up and flung back by the sudden release of biotic energy. One landed badly and writhed, nursing a badly mangled arm. The other flew into the krogan who had only stumbled. The pair went down hard, but were merely dazed. Pitne came off worst. He was punted face first into his shuttle. The speed he was propelled at meant the shuttle's mass effect fields triggered on their side. He whimpered and staggered backwards, gassed leaking from his suit and ruptured face plate.

"Oh _ssrkkkghgh_ bother."

The air sparked and the volus seemed to expand. The stunned krogan staggered to his feet, nearly shoving his turian comrade aside. He had a moment to turn and see his boss inflate. Then a spark of floating ash met the methane inside the volus' suit.

The second explosion wasn't huge, but it was _wet_. The krogan roared, his face plate smeared with tattered enviro-suit and gore. He swung his shotgun and fired wildly, trying to find a target. The second turian managed to duck backwards, turning to try and engage Dan. But instead met a hail of mass effect fire. His barrier sputtered, flared and died. The turian lasted a second longer as his armour gave way, sparking with impacts. The remaining krogan snarled and finally cleared his view. He gestured wildly at the gunships.

Their guns began to spool up, as the pair manoeuvred for a good shot - all though of a pay check gone. The krogan roared triumphantly… which was cut short as a missile streaked across the sky and obliterated a gunship.

The type 3 Tabar skirmish missile is usually utilised in ship to ship combat - it is designed for impacting bomber craft or up-armoured and shielded corvette-to-frigate level craft. Its multi-layered design of biotic tip and HE secondary charge is designed to compromise shielding, then layered armour (reactive or solid) via shaped charge delivery, followed by a tertiary explosive meant to expand any breaches and thoroughly compromise the target vessel.

That is to say, it's a space bunker buster.

So, using it on a hovering gunship is both an impressive feat of fly-by-wire targeting and also heavy overkill - a gunship has mid-tier atmospheric barriers, and barely any up armour.

The fireball of shrapnel and secondary explosions send the second gunship into a tailspin. Before it could correct, a stream of white hot mass effect rounds peppered the spinning craft, which went up in rupturing, guttering fireball all of its own.

The Krogan stared. His shotgun dropped from his hand and he raised his arms. Through the smoke _Chancer_.

" _How's that for timing, Mr Sharrocks?"_

"Bloody perfect, love. Bloody perfect."

* * *

Ten minutes later they had the krogan and the wounded yurian sat on their shuttle and airborne. The pilot had wisely decided to just stay put and squawk a surrender to the newly arrived corvette. The mercs were a bit dazed, and in no mood to resist. They weren't too keen to get space-side to the freighter and explain to their colleagues that their boss was now painted over the shuttle's exterior. Dan winced at that - he never liked collateral - he'd rather have given the volus a kicking and let him learn his lesson.

Now, the _Chancer_ sat on the landing pad, crates being loaded up. Their short unshielded period didn't seem to have left them any worse for wear.

Dan stood at the edge of the landing pad, watching the merc shuttle speed away. They'd tweak the comms package so they wouldn't be calling for help until they were out of atmosphere and within 500 metres of a ship. And even then only with a huge amount of interference. Yeah, it wasn't nice but they were getting off lightly. There was a rep to be remembered for.

Sharrocks turned and walked back to the ramp, climbing into the cargo hold. Rogilia and Klin were wheeling the crates aboard using biotic lifters - small, trolley like auto lifters with a self contained biotic charge. Dan nodded at them the approached the holding station where Lia was isolated. Teel was stood next to her, a video window open and connected to the temporary QEC they had had thrust on them by Garrus.

A familiar figure was stood in the holographic display, albeit reduced down to a fifth of her usual size. Dan still couldn't quite get used to the sight of an unsuited Quarian. This one was wearing a purple sashed robe, with admiral tabs - clearly formal wear. It appeared Teel had caught tali at a diplomatic event.

The Quarian Dominion's youngest admiral had her arms crossed and was frowning at something off-screen.

" _Whilst I always appreciate hearing from a fellow engineer, Teel'Shuran, I want to be absolutely clear. You are sure you are not having a joke at my expense?"_

"Absolutely, Tali'Zorah. I mean… Tali'Shepard."

The woman smiled faintly, " _I know. Takes getting used to. So, a VI? I can't see any traces of intrusion code, or compromised nodes. What is…. Alarming are these images you say you found Lia. Ah, Lieutenant Sharrocks. Glad to see Kasumi hasn't gotten you killed yet."_

Dan gave a lopsided grin, "Makes two of us, aye. I hope we dinnae disrupt your evening."

" _Hardly. Admiralty meeting with the Conclave. I just left John holding court. He does that."_ Tali smiled fondly, then turned her attention back to the data, " _I think I will need to run these… oh Keelah. Definitely need to run these by John. Lia, I think you are ok. It's the rest of you that need to be cautious. I will ask John to clear you for access. Get some files to you."_

Dan nodded slowly, "What's so worrying?"

" _You got this data in conjunction with a haulage job?"_

"Yes ma'am."

" _Then be very careful around those crates. If you can, try a scan - Lia is best suited. If this is related, she is the least vulnerable of all of you. The files will go into more detail but synthetics are a blindspot."_ The admiral arched an eyebrow at Lia, " _Lucky you were along, Lia. Do I need to have a word with Descartes?"_

"We will admit a certain level of…. As the organics say 'gut feeling', Creator Tali'Shepard. We initially suspected Reaper involvement. It would be prudent to be present if that were the case, to re-establish and identify any presient threat to the consensus."

" _Hmm. Well, the next cohort meeting with the geth will include a gentle admonishment about sharing. Again. I will let John know. Keep safe and keep in touch. Keelah Se'Lai."_

"Keelah Se'lai, Tali'Shepard," responded Teel with a head tilt. Even without their suits, Quarian body language was overt - you didn't spend a life-time inside a completely obscuring suit and then forget all you'd had to do to over compensate. Dan gestured to Lia and the geth until disengaged from the charging station which they'd repurposed into a faraday cage.

The crates had been stacked and lashed at the far end of the cargo hold, behind the mobile unit. Dan beckoned Lia to follow him and gestured at the crates.

"Whaddya think?"

"Shielded, biometric access scans. Keyed to…. Salarian DNA." Her oculus zoomed and her fringe flaps flared, "Explosives linked to the sealant - attempt to access will trigger this and all nearby networked of which appears to have radiation leaking from it - minor, non hazardous, but indicative that this has a deniability element to it - scorched earth?"

Dan grimaced, "Sounds right. STG don't like leaving traces… if this is STG. It's convoluted enough. Smells Salarian."

"However, STG have not yet adapted to geth encoding and spoofing algorithms. Close, but not quite. I have suborned a crate and isolated it from the network."

Dan blinked, "How?"

"In a way you would understand - by pretending I am another crate and that I have been opened correctly. This has in turn opened another."

"Why not all of them."

"In case it didn't work. Then it'd just be minor concussion rather than a scuttled ship."

Dan blinked again then swore, "JESUS Lia. Tell me _before_ you do something like that."

"You did not object to the bunker buster to a gunship."

"That was you?"

"Yes. Teel isn't a pilot, and Rogilia could not guarantee the LADAR tracking in this atmosphere. I suborned a missile at her request."

"Fine. Ok. But if the circumstance permits…."

"Indeed." The geth quirked her "face" into the equivalent of a grin - a tilted flashlight head, flaps quirked upwards and focus zoomed, "so, let's see what we have."

The crate hissed open. Dan whistled. Teel wandered over and balked. Lia even reared back slightly.

Inside the crate, on racks,neatly itemised, serial numbered and with a micro life support pad underneath them, were stacked husk heads. As one, they fixed the trio with dead eyes - human, turian, batarian - and _screeched._


	11. Chapter 11 - Plans and Potential

Dan stumbled backwards, cursing. Teel went pale and his hand went to his mouth. Lia merely cocked her head.

"Most disturbing."

"No shit! What the hell? I mean, I thought all Reaper parts were renditioned and destroyed, the bodies burned?"

"Evidently not, Mr Sharrocks. The condition of these…"

"Can you shut the bloody crate? How are they screaming? They've got no bloody lungs…"

"Vocal cords replaced by synthetic oscillating speakers. No exhalation required."

"Oh bloody brilliant. Just… shut the bloody crate, ok?"

The crate sealed shut, just as Klin and Rogilia jogged up, pistol and shotgun ready. Rog shot Dan an angry and confused look.

"What in the seventy layers of the hell spiral was that? Sounded like…"

Dan shook his head and leaned for breath against the buggy. With a sigh he pushed himself off, "You weren't wrong love. Seems our package is a whole grab bag of creepy, nasty shite. Boxes are full of husk parts. _Living_ husk parts."

Rogilia recoiled, then shot a glance at Lia. her four eyes blinked, one after the other - clearly a sign she was stressed, "What?"

"The Lieutenant is correct. However, whilst this is Reaper tech, the live support modules are not. The crates are sealed and shielded - the indoctrination effect is minimised…"

"MINIMISED?" Dan spun round and levelled a finger at the crate, "We've seen what hanging around concentrated Reaper shite does to ye. Even small bits gets in yer head. How can you be sure we'll be…?"

"I am sorry, Lieutenant. The effects of indoctrination are well studied but not entirely understood. However, it takes prolonged, direct exposure to major concentrations to have a _rapid_ effect on the organic brain's electrical patterns. I theorise that I should be able to shield the crates further with a low level biotic field. Remember, Husks themselves only emit a short effect field and usually only act as an amplified to a concentrated signal. The extant indoc-signal present in non-sentient Reaper technology usually exists in large scale, independently powered objects - such as Rho, from the seal files for Project Arrival, or the 'dragon's teeth'."

Dan shook his head slowly, "Still don't trust it."

"Understandable. I can shield the crates further. No need to be careless. Whilst the effects are likely minimal without a major power element, the indoc frequency appeared more a side effect of Reaper design than…"

"Yeah yeah, built in. Right, I don't want this shit on my ship longer than necessary." he massaged the bridge of his nose, "Grand. Box full of hell - can't destroy it, we lose our lead. Can't leave it here - either it gets picked up by another idiot or melted, so same result. Can't hand it to the Alliance, again cos we'll lose the lead. And I'm not hot on handing it over, in case **Bad Shit** happens."

Klin shifted on his huge feet, eyeing the crates, "We could toast some of them… blame it on the Volus?"

Dan chuckled, "Not a bad plan… but then we look incompetent and risk not getting any further intel from the Fists. Doesn't matter it wouldn't have been our fault. No… no. We gotta drop this stuff off, then hope we can track it before some idiot plugs it into a derelict Reaper or an AI or shoves it up their arse to see if it gives them space magic.."

"Ever the poet," Rog holstered her pistol and shivered, "Really hoped we wouldn't have to deal with this shit again. _Really_ hoped we were just taking on smugglers, or slavers, or some sort of third column terrorists bent on overthrowing Galactic peace."

Teel grimace under his transparent breather, "Seconded."

Klin chuckled throatily, "Naw, another chance to kick the Reapers in the ass? Count me in."

Dan nodded, then gestured to his crew, "Right, we've burnt enough daylight. Let's get this stuff loaded. Lia, set up that field, whatever you need to do. Guys, wouldn't recommend sleeping until we drop this shit off. Briefing says it can take days with Indoc, but I don't want to chance it. Load it, stow it, let's get airborne and en route to the RV point."

* * *

Half an hour later, the Corvette was breaking atmosphere, angling towards the Cluster centre and the mass Relay. Rogilia fidgeted in the pilot seat and glanced over at Dan. The LT was leafing through the paper documents, punching co-ordinates into the nav computer.

"What do you reckon all this is about?"

"Not sure, love. Reaper tech usually means mind control or something. Cerberus cooked themselves playing with that crap. If someone else is trying to go for round two, doesn't bear thinking about. Who knows what they could do without the Reapers in action?"

"Yeah, no higher power to curb stomp them or co-opt it."

The comm terminal bleeped. Teel, sat at the terminal, blinked in surprise, "Uh…. yes sir, putting you on now."

The Quarian turned in his chair and gestured to the control panel. Dan shrugged and pushed a button. He blinked in surprise as a familiar face popped up.

" _Lieutenant Sharrocks?"_

"Erm, it's just Mr Sharrocks now, Co- _Admiral_ Shepard."

The chiseled face on the other end of the comm quirked a grin, " _Yeah, the ranks all fade after time. Always preferred Commander myself. Glad to put a face to the name, finally. Kasumi talked a lot about your team. Solid work, by all accounts."_

"Thank you sir. I'm sure this isn't an overdue thank you call?"

" _Correct. Tali passed me what your friend Lia managed to decipher. I've passed it onto C-Sec and the SPECTRE central command. What I'm about to brief you on is key. I have half the Geth Consensus scrambling this transmission and my wife's own encryption running as well. It'd take a team of asari their whole lifecycle to break that."_

Dan looked around the cockpit and shrugged weakly, "aren't you at a function… sir?"

" _Just another bilateral talk between the Dominion, Conclave and consensus. Plus tali's holding court know. Did my part earlier, just warming them up so she can shout at them properly. Now, onto the main business. We're talking about Code LEVIATHAN."_

Rogilia glanced across and frowned. Shepard continued,

" _During the war, we encountered a species that we identified as the source of the original Reaper - Harbinger. These creatures employed a vast bio-technological array of systems, including a precursor to the indoctrination and Reaper assimilation systems. They are a vehemently anti-synthetic race and, until now, isolated to a single planet. We forced assurances upon these creatures that their involvement would not be tolerated. We have five geth dreadnaught and an auxiliary fleet permanently on manoeuvres in their home cluster. Honestly, we aren't one hundred percent aware of their capability. We have speculated that they maintained several holdouts of their cached technologies were located, as a method of monitoring the harvest cycles."_

Dan nodded slowly, "You have reason to believe they're involved?"

" _The VI you uncovered uses a similar architecture to the wave functions and frequencies that some of their artefacts utilise. Said artefacts can only be analysed by synthetic intelligences… safely, that is. And even then we are damn cautious. Prolonged exposure to an organic mind has a debilitating effect. It's not unlike indoctrination, but unlike the Reaper version, its effects are more easily reversed. However, if the people you are dealing with have Leviathan tech, I'm concerned their end game is more than just smuggling."_

"Aye sir. We sent another report to ONI -the cargo we're carrying - seems to be Reaper parts."

Shepard shook his head slowly and frowned, " _Leviathan tech can co-opt Reaper equipment. It's about the only reliable thing that can, as the in built nano-machines tend to enforce a singular drive - at least in the basic husks. Tali or Liara may know more. I don't want to co-opt Garrus' command on this, but I advise you proceed with extreme caution. Make use of Lia. I've just dispatched a dossier with breakdowns of what to be on the look-out for - abnormal behaviour, personality ticks, specific technology you observe lying around."_

"Thank you sir."

" _Good luck, Lieutenant. You may leave the Alliance, but it never leaves you. I'll ask Garrus to tie in with you again."_

With that, the comm cut out dan leaned back in the chair and checked the destination timer. 30 minutes until they hit the system limit and could shift the drive up further. Another hour to the central cluster, and 20 minutes to reach the Relay. He shouted down the access hatch:

"Right everyone, conference call, mess room. I'll get the bird man dialled in."

* * *

The flickering holo of Garrus crackled on the tables surface.

" _Daaaamn. Shepard's given you access to that? Not a fun trip to the seaside. All that sea air, no good for my complexion."_

Rogilia whistled under her breath as she paged through a data pad, "So this is what those asses in Central Command were researching?"

Garrus nodded, " _Yeah, we reckon their initial data on the derelict Reaper they found led them on the initial hunt for the Leviathan. Allowed Sovereign… that first reaper who attacked the Citadel.. Well, evidence indicates it beamed that back to the main Reaper force, hence their little hunting expedition. The Batarians almost found them too, before the invasion happened. Can you imagine the hegemony with mind control power?"_

Rogilia shuddered, "I saw what they did without it. Hell, my own family weren't paragons, but we weren't as bad as the core system Houses… anyway, this is bad nether stuff."

Klin shifted and growled, "What do a bunch of mercs want to do with this? Piracy? Ransoming?"

Teel shrugged, "Mind control a ship - less risky to board? More compliant captives? Seize a colony even?"

"Or they're working for someone else. Either way, we need to find out what it has to do with those Reaper skulls in the crates. So, we make the RV. Drop off, then track. We may need to step back, let the rest of ONI pick up some slack."

Garrus folded his arms and leaned back, " _Yeah. Have you found a way to track? Not exactly a stealth ship are you?"_

"Your fault, boss… not splashing the cash, big man."

" _Toupe."_

"Touche, I think you mean, lad."

" _Ugh, English. Japanese was hard enough to learn. You guys with your fifteen different words for the same thing. Anyway. Lia may be able to try something?"_

Lia "blinked" her eye flaps, "Difficult. If the rendezvous ships contain the same or similar VI, we will be unable to compromise it. The consensus has not been able to find any form of direct chink, or coding flaw we could reliable exploit to allow us to track their systems, comm relays or beacons."

" _Damn. Well, we may have to be old fashioned. Hunt by signs - once you've done the drop off, see if you can use the relay beacons, or comm buoys. Even if they're erasing their tracks, they should leave some trace…"_

"I have an alternative theory," They looked at Teel. The quarian grinned nervously, "Well, we can open their crates, right?"

"Put a tracker inside? They're shielded, you know that. Even if they opened it up, the place on the other side could be equally shielded. So we _still_ wouldn't find it."

"Not a tracker…. A person."

They fell silent. Dan shook his head, "You're mad, wee man."

Lia piped up, "I believe Teel is suggesting a proxy."

The quarian nodded, "Lia brought some Loki mechs on board. I suggest we crack open the crate with the nuke in it, replace _that_ with a Loki, with some bespoke programmes. Then bam."

"The nuke?"

"Well, it's probably the one crate they won't immediately open, right? It's just a failsafe device, so in all probability, it'll get shipped to whichever armoury they have for deactivation and repurposing?"

"A lot of IF's in there, lad," murmured Dan. Lia nodded her flashlight head,

"But Teel raises a good point. Considering their cargo, their priority will be the husks. I can suitably update an alternative frame and deliver a custom VIA with pilots…"

"Wait, what?"

"Some of… myself. More reactive that way, plus they have a chance to infiltrate the local network more effectively."

Dan looked at Rog, who shrugged, then at Klin who just grunted. Finally he looked at Garrus, "That's what we got."

" _Not great. Lots could go wrong. But hey, I'm a guy who jumped on a ship with twelve nutcases, flew to the centre of the galaxy and too out a whole starbase. Lotta stuff going on on the fly there. Not my greatest strategic decision, but on balance… could've been worse. Just to be sure, I've tasked a couple of other teams to your destination system - they've got cover business in the area, but should be able to respond if you hit issues."_

"Thanks boss man. Right team. Let's make this happen. And hoping we avoid any giant space squid…. Again."

The hologram flashed off and the team dispersed to prep. Dan stopped Lia as she was exiting the mess room.

"Lia, you alright with this? Breaking off a part of… yourself. Cannae be great."

"It's not something I do usually. But remember, we geth are gestalt. Each individual programme its own thing. Its own individual. We do not think as you do, do not operate. But I will be careful. I know which of my constituents are best suited to the role… and I have something more effective than a LOKI mech in my… carry on luggage."

Dan arched an eyebrow, "Be prepared?"

Lia quirked an eye flap, "I'm no Boy Scout, but I find the adage appropriate. Shall we?"

As they trudged down to the cargo hold, Dan still couldn't shake a tension in his stomach. In his mind he remembered those dark spaces below London, of Lizzie falling to madness. This... this was starting to sound like it could go the same way.

But it was either hell now or hell later. And at least this way, it was on their own terms.


	12. Chapter 12 - Delivery

The drop off was pretty non-descript: a floating set of containers in deep space. There was a beacon, but they had to tune into the specified frequency to find it. The thing was broadcasting a pre-recorded warning, reiterating that they should only access the container specific to THEIR mission and any other access would be deemed a void of contract with "immediate repercussions".

Teel ran a hand nervously over his omni tool, then glanced at the sealed crate, "You can still read me, Lia?"

The geth unit standing next to him turned its cowled head and regarded him, before answering "Yes."

An echoing " _Yes"_ issued from his omnitool. Teel chuckled, "That is still not going to stop being creepy."

The geth shrugged, a strange expression from a synthetic being. Teel just snorted and returned to checking the tool. Sharrocks leaned against another crate, all geared up.

"We all ready tae go, aye?"

Teel nodded absently, glancing up briefly as Klin and Rogilia pushed the loading trolley across to the crates. The Batarian woman looked to Lia.

"Docking?"

"Initiated. The containers appear to have an extendable gantry. However, I am detecting no atmosphere aboard. Likely this is another security measure."

Dan nodded slowly, "Makes sense. Good way to stop any stowaways - monitor for atmosphere blooms. Any expelled gas tanks, or signs of life. Who's betting they wait a good day or so before collecting, just to ensure no one aboard has enough air to be alive… or put up a fight?"

"Clearly, they are only expecting organic infiltration."

Dan chewed his lip thoughtfully, "Aye, perhaps. But let's not get cocky."

The crew busied themselves as Lia steered the vessel towards their assigned container. A gantry extended - little more than a mesh-covered tube - which manipulated itself, stretching modular clamps, until it aligned with their ships' cargo bay door. The crew sealed their suits, Klin moving to ensure the access hatch to the main decks of the ship were secured, whilst Dan ensured the mass effect projectors had the rear-most section of the hold sealed, as the primary atmosphere seal.

The cargo door hissed open, some residual atmosphere bleeding out into the vacuum beyond. The team advanced, mass effect manipulators lifting the cargo crates in front of them. Slowly, in file, they moved the cargo across to the massive container, which loomed at the end of the gantry.

The access door to the container slid open silently, revealing a low lit space inside. There were areas cordoned off by cargo netting, delineating each crew's drop off points. Some areas already had crates in. Klin took a step towards one, but Lia's voice chimed in over the comm:

" _Inadvisable. We are detecting low yield scans. There is a VI operating in the container environ, remember. It will be intelligent enough to know you are in the wrong area. We do not wish to test its capacity for "repercussions"."_

"Was that snark, Lia?" chuckled Sharrocks.

" _We could not possibly comment."_

They loaded the cargo, which took two trips. As soon as the last crate was stacked into place, red lights began to flash all around the container and an announcement sliced into their comms:

" _You have one minute to vacate. Thank you for your service. You have one minute to vacate…"_

It looped, the voice just on the edge of grating. The crew made it to the main doors, which had already begun to slide shut. It wasn't quite a made scramble, but it came close. They drifted back across the gantry. Dan hung back, glancing around at the black void around them. Rogilia turned, floating just ahead.

" _Something on your mind_?"

" _Aye. Waiting for the shoe to drop."_

They all reached the Kestrel and reboarded. The cargo door hissed shut, with the docking gantry disengaging even before it had didn't wait for the fields to reset, or the atmosphere to re-establish. He turned to the stationary platform that one segment of Lia was still using (And which had remained on the ship - no point even HINTING they had some form of automation or geth connection).

"Get us outta here."

The platform twitched faintly, then nodded, "Understood. Engaging FTL drives, maneuvering towards… which destination?"

"Random."

Rog reached out and touched his arm, her upper set of eyes squinting at him.

"What's wrong? That shoe…?"

His mouth was set firm, "Let's just get clear."

The crew bundled up to the cockpit, Klin taking the gunnery spot, Teel the comms point. Roigilia vaulted into the pilot's chair and ran checks, confirming Lia's pattern. Then she took control, angling toward's the relay. Dan leaned against the cockpit hatch and chewed his lips. He glanced down,

"Any signatures?"

Teel shook his head and paused, squinting at the screen, "Thermal bloom from the containers. Matches _possible_ heat venting or engine thruster adjustment. Minor though."

Dan nodded, "Keep her steady Rog. They think we're twitchy or panicking they may want to double check what we dropped off."

Slowly, Rogilia angled the vessel, then began to spool up the FTL drive. A moment later and the Kestrel shot away in a streak of blue light.

All was silent in the void. Near the containers small flashes pricked the night sky as _something_ adjusted its position. Not far off, relatively speaking, something else, much larger, moved against the black. Space seemed to shimmer briefly and then a huge vessel bled into view. It drifted towards the collection of containers. As it closed in, a small swarm of drone haulers burst from a hangar and cruised towards the cargo holders. As one, the swarm began moving the containers back to the massive vessel, bolting them to external cranes and gantries. The huge ship, more a mobile space station than a ship, seemed to be building a second set of hull around it as the cargo containers were pushed into place.

Then, as silently as it had arrived, the huge ship rippled again and vanished first from the visible spectrum, then from the radiological.


	13. Chapter 13 - The Plot Thickens

Tormae walked slowly between the stacks of crates. A younger Salarian, skin vibrant green, paced alongside him, a bundle of energy as he scanned across a tablet. The younger amphibian muttered to himself, cycling through various checks. Tormae chuckled to himself - he remembered being that jittery, trying to fit everything in. Trying to _live_.

Well, if Command followed up on this, then that would be a thing of the past. No more flashing through life; no more fading into dust whilst the _asari_ or the _turians_ outlasted them, sneered at them. Hell, even the _KROGAN_ were higher than them. The _GETH_. The filthy _Quarians._

Tormae paused and exhaled. The younger Salarian stopped, having walked several paces ahead and turned to regard his superior.

"Sir?"

Tormae waved him away and blinked rapidly, "It's nothing, Jorut. Just age catching up with me," For all the world it felt like he could hear his own voice, shouting. He couldn't make out the words, but as soon as he thought that, the noise was gone, "Where are we on the manifest details?"

"That last run of mercs brought the payloads we needed. All untraceable. We're just cataloguing the actual cargo and separating out the, ah, contingency devices."

"Hm. Yes, I want those secured. We may need them as a fallback point. In case…"

Jorut nodded quickly, "Yes. Quite. , Doctor Solus wanted a catchup."

"Taking a break is he?"

"He advised the last batch is prepped and ready. But he wanted to discuss the next phase."

Tormae nodded again, "Thank you Jorut. Get the crews to finish cataloguing the crates. I want the appropriate items ready for movement to manufacturing."

The younger man winced, almost imperceptibly; no matter, that delicate tendency would get weeded out soon enough. Or he'd become expendable. They all were, really, just to varying degrees. That was what Command said. No asset too valuable.

As he turned to leave his eyes skated over one of the crate stacks. He felt something lurch in his gut - fear? Disgust? He spun and stared at the crate.

"Jorut. What is in those?"

The younger man checked his manifest, scrolling through, "Ah. Miscellaneous - organic converted elements; cerebral. Homo-sapiens, Turian extract I believe," Tormae pointed at one of the crates and narrowed his eyes. For some reason his gut was doing somersaults. The younger Salarian did a quick check again, "Uh… the standard contingency crate as well, sir?"

"Open it."

Moments later, a pair of Salarians were gently prying the lid from the crate. Tormae felt his hand slide to his sidearm. Whilst he had good muscle memory this was… strange. The lid of crate thudded to the ground dully and the salarian crewmen glanced uncertainly at their commander. Tormae strode forwards and peered in.

Inside was… an atomic. Normal yield. No activation timer, no electrical activity. But there was something - a weirdly metallic… smell? Oil? He relaxed the grip on his pistol and felt the blood flow back into his fingers. Strange, he hadn't realised he'd drawn the weapon.

"Get this secured. Looks like it's been moved around."

"Yeah, must;ve been packed weirdly," Said one of the techs, "Some of the material's been crushed."

Tormae peered at it and frowned, "Check the logs - find out which crew delivered this. I think they may have snuck a peek."

Jorut scoffed, "But the device didn't go off!"

"Exactly why I want them found. You, get to it. Jorut, carry on. We need manufacturing stocked."

"Sir?"Jorut startled at his leader's glare, "Yes sir!"

Tormae reholstered his pistol and absently wiped his hand on his hardsuit,as if removing an unpleasant texture. Then he stalked away from the loading dock towards the access elevator.

High above, clutching a support strut, something shimmered and scuttled, a single eye tracking the Salarian.

* * *

The medical wing was a contrast to the more industrial layout of the upper decks. The freighter was a mish mash of holding cells, quarters, operating theatres and manufacturing pods. It all linked together, like a body - inputs one end, product out the other, with additives all over it. Like an ants nest, it was a hive of activity.

He found Doctor Solus in one of the break areas in the medical wing - a set of repurposed cargo pods to the fore of the "bridge" element of the freighter. It was one of the few areas with direct access down to the central storage areas, where they kept most of the samples; around the core storage unit. The Doctor was sipping slowly from a plastic cup - likely water. Tormae had never seen the man drink anything stronger. He nodded as the man looked up.

Solus was an odd one - fairly fresh out of a series of medical courses, he was pretty much born to be STG; by the colonies, it was practically a family tradition for the Solus'. Tormae had been lucky to get him on board with this. He'd also been slightly worried, considering the fate of the man's more eccentric uncle.

"Tormae, glad you were able to make time for me."

"Of course, Doctor. You wished to discuss the next phase?"

"Indeed. We need to run a more long range test of the remote's capabilities."

"You have enough assets prepared?"

"Units 4 through 12 are still being uplifted. 1 to 3 are in prime state to deploy. 13 through 16 were too juvenile to be of use, so they are on ice until we decide a fair use."

Tormae nodded, but felt a weird twinge. Guilt? Hardly. He'd done worse. They were animals. Obstacles in their ascension. Tools to be used - strong tools, but tools nonetheless.

"Tormae?"

He blinked, "Sorry, Doctor, just considering. So, three live units?"

The Doctor shifted and nodded slowly, "Yes. Three subjects. We ah. Are ready to test. We will need somewhere remote to ensure limited signal traffic and to monitor feedback. Do you have a location in mind? My team can be ready to…"

"No Doctor. We need a more… arduous task. I think you'd refer to it as a control group? We can use one of the units in a trial phase to ensure proper feedback. I have been assured by Command that the remotes have excellent reception when deployed near active units."

"Nevertheless, I would like to…"

"Doctor. You have seen the results. Subjugation, full synaptic suppression, limited filtration or shielding effectiveness."

The Doctor blinked rapidly and eyed Tormae, "Why the sudden rush?"

Tormae twitched, "Because we have already spent a lot of effort on the project and Command expects results."

"Hmm. Which elements of Command are you referring to?"

Tormae smiled thinly, "Above your pay grade Doctor. I would have thought the facilities and the practically unprecedented chance to work with alien technology would be enough."

Solus chuckled and seemed to relax, "Well, runs in the family you could say. Can't blame me for curiosity, Tormae. It is why I'm here. I will provide the units and the team will prepare them. To ensure feedback and correct data collation, I will need a brief of the intended target locations and a brief synopsis of activities planned, so we can monitor brainwave and cybernetic signal patterning."

Tormae nodded. The Doctor was pushing things. Perhaps a threat? Perhaps Command would need to be directly involved? No. Not yet. Needed him focused on this for now. The STG officer blinked again - Solus was eyeing him again.

"Yes Doctor. My staff will liaise with yours. I'd like the specimens prepared to move in 24 hours."

"Plenty of time. Thank you Commander Tormae."

The Doctor set the plastic cup down and stood, smoothing the white lab-coat and then running a hand over dark red horns. He was the very model of modern mad scientist. With a brief nod, he stepped passed Tormae and headed back towards the labs.

Tormae flicked up a reminder in his check Solus' system access and to consider scheduling an interview with Command to re-evaluate his project status. The man was invaluable, currently. His ethical flexibility was certainly useful. But no one was…. Completely irreplaceable. A reminder chimed on his tool and he blinked rapidly again. His mind kept drifting. Likely not enough sleep. He felt he was going through the motions at times. The time showed he'd been stood there for ten minutes. Strange. Clearly stressed.

The tool chimed again and Tormae opened the message window, showing Jorut's face.

" _Sir we've identified the source ship. Human registered Corvette - Kestrel. L-09877, Registered to a Sharrocks, Dan. Some sort of Alliance washout."_

"So just another spacer with an attitude problem?"

" _Possibly. Reports from Sharanae's team and spotters - solid crew, cocky, even knocked out another crew that tried to intervene and steal their haul. That's what the survivors said anyway."_

Tormae chewed his lip and hummed to himself, "Professionals then. But no idea why they would chance it? Any histories at all?"

" _Just some background. Extra net STG access isn't quite back on par, plus the geth seem to be everywhere now, running interference on us. Dishonourable discharge, some activity in the Sol system. Links to a former Batarian SF unit. Though we did find a spot of reference to a 'Goto'? Not sure what that is. Worth a deeper dive?"_

Tormae shook his head slowly, "There's such a thing as being too paranoid, even for STG. You begin to see conspiracies everywhere…." and yet that weird gut feeling. Goto… Goto…. "Just try to do another sweep of known affiliations, see if anything jumps out. For now let's chalk it up to them not handling the crates well. You mentioned they got jumped?"

" _Yeah. Gunships and everything. Let the mercs go though._ "

"Doesn't scream ruthless cutthroat…. Thank you, Jorut."

" _Sure thing sir. Crates on the move. We should have manufacturing stocked in the next 3 hours."_

Wit that the image faded. Tormae growled to himself. Something was in the back of his mind. A nagging sense of familiarity. But like walking into a house you'd only ever seen in a dream. Or someone else's description of a dream - alien familiarity.

 _Goto_? Goto? Go to?

He pinged his omni-tool open again, this time bringing Sharanae up. The grizzled asari glared at him across the link, " _What is it, Tormae? You've interrupted my meditation."_

"Your red sand indulgence? Or a footrub?"

The woman barked a laugh and shrugged, " _About the same impact. So, what is it?"_

"Dan Sharrocks. Your thoughts?"

" _Alliance boy, trying it tough. Credit to them, they did the job. Why?_ "

"Call it a has routes, but I'd classify you as a source. See what your people know. And does the word _Goto_ chime any crystals?"

" _Eh, a thief, a brand of hovercar and a failed Asari synth band. Why?"_

"Something strange. A link. See what you can dig up. And… see if you can find them again."

" _What about my upgrade chat?"_

"Call me back when you've got something, we'll make it happen."

The call cut. Tormae rubbed his temple. He couldn't shake a strange feeling of detachment. He really should talk to command again. Yes, that'd help. Brief them over a direct channel. Command always knew things, always kept tabs on, but a direct report. Yes. Good.

He moved towards the elevators and didn't notice that they took half a second longer than normal to close. He blinked as his vision blurred briefly but upon checking the corridor saw nothing. With a frown and another strange lurch of his stomach, he closed the doors and pushed the button for the bridge.

In the empty hallway outside the medical bays, nothing in particular scuttled across the ceiling. Nothing peered through the glass observation windows into the general wards. And then nothing reached down and access the keypad.

And then the halfway was empty again, the medbay door having mysteriously only opened halfway before re-sealing itself.


	14. Chapter 14 - Infiltration

The IT architecture of the vessel was impressive, but typical of Salarian design processes - compartmentalised, to ensure better security, it actually left far too many loop holes. Granted, many of those were traps for an external hacker to fall victim to - alarm triggers, virus caches, simple dead ends or logic loops to white-noise an intrusive omni-tool.

And half of it seemed to be designed to prevent other elements of the system directory interfacing with certain key networks, servers or even external comm channels. Now, limiting comm traffic was standard practice aboard most military and even some civilian ships - bandwidth was previous, especially in an era with limited QEC systems.

But here it was as if there had been a myriad of different system architects with conflicting briefs and software packages - language clashes, dead systems, abandoned programmes; but in the chaos there seemed an order. An underlying attempt to frustrate not just an intruder but anyone who wanted to control the system _internally_.

Whoever had made this hadn't wanted any ONE individual to be able to access and control it. Now, that would have worked for most organics and even a small group of geth. But Reaper level? Trivial.

But the effort was there. Which indicated that someone high up in the chain on this ship didn't _want_ it running completely smoothly.

Lia pulled her arm away from the terminal. The infiltrator unit part of the gestalt was operating was only partially visible in the med bay, coiled up next to a cluttered desk. To an idle observer, she looked like a complex bit of machinery. Or one of the disturbingly organic bits of tech strewn across the lab. Her sensors picked up a heady mix of pheremones and metallic dust in the air. The cached files in the unit were flagging matches to Reaper alloys, yahg DNA and Salarian cranial fluid. Some of the material was drawing blanks and errors, however.

So far she had managed to access the manifest, crew records and transactional records. Whilst the mercs outside of the vessel had been careful to hide a paper trail, in this "secure bastion", bureaucracy clearly held sway. After all, a central command area wanted to be able to track leaks or reliable assets. You just didn't want that information getting _out_.

Well, it was _out_. Or at least bundled in a transmission packet ready to go, as long as Lia could a) find an authorisation kernel and b) ensure that it wouldn't immediately be flagged by the unsettling VI presence that she could sense underlying _all_ of the servers and databases aboard the vessel.

One name in particular had been puzzling - Solus. This particular name had been flagged as "Of Interest" to Shepard-Commander.

Lia flexed and scuttled up a wall and across the ceiling, the optical camouflage settling into place. The particular variant of the infiltrator class chassis had been refined, now being able to almost entirely flatten itself and squeeze into tight spaces. It was far less durable, but highly mobile.

She was using this as much to her advantage as possible; of course with fewer runtimes and a far reduced operating cycle, strategic decisions were hard to make. She imagined this was what organics felt if slightly inebriated. The geth had tried simulating similar experiences but had no comparative data to measure.

The medical logs having now been accessed (She'd already taken data from the partitioned wireless networks carried by half the crew as she moved about the cargo bay - mostly manifest and personal data) she moved to perform more mundane reconnaissance. To see what was beyond the hermetically sealed doors that lead to the "Theatre". She had tasked a few runtimes to access monitoring systems and was trying to access Tormae's communication band. If he was on a QEC she would have no chance at intercepting, unless in the room itself or with a hardline to the emitter. It'd be useful to identify who in STG Command was spearheading this operation.

However the layout of the vessel (even heavily modified) only had a QEC located on the bridge, in the central comms tower. And the in-system trackers indicated Tormae was actually located in his quarters. So far she had detected no transmissions to his room either.

The sealed door would trigger an alert if opened. Or it would have if a geth unit didn't spoof an authorisation to unlock

She slipped in and made her way through the clean white corridors. An echo of Legion-self chimed with an odd memory - quite corridors; Black arched "C" symbols. The murmurs of dead gods. They were strange things, the memories of Him-Who-Saved. Not that "gift" of sentience, but rather the enabling of methods of thinking. The organics dumbed it down to "reaper code" but really it was Legion's developed machine learning that had broadened the paradigm options for them.

On one side of the corridor was a set of cold storage units and processing rooms - large, reinforced cages and stasis tanks. All were currently empty. There was also a clear access lift in the room - a direct connection to the cargo bay or a docking ring? She took note and matched the lift on the blueprint schematic for the ship, tagging it as a "POI" - point of interest. The right side of the hall held something more macabre - an operating theatre. Or rather, a theatre that looked more like a morgue - four massive tables, with spider-like appendages. Lia wasn't particularly capable of shock, but the sight was unsettling. Each table had a sealed cylinder at the "head" end. One table was actually in use - a pair of Salarians were working feverishly over what had been a yahg. However, now it was little more than gristle and severed stumps.

Except the thing's chest was moving and the triple jaw of the beasts face mouthed silently But the eyes were vacant.

Lia's vision tracked to the object above the creature's head. Warning signals flashed across her internal constructs and virtual environments. Old simulations populated and all screamed DANGER.

The unit ducked down. But the Salarians kept working, focused on their grisly task, whatever it was. Lia began to backtrack slowly towards the door. Another door, further along the corridor hissed open and a dark-red-skinned Salarian stepped out. He was wearing a white labcoat, stained with purple splotches. Slowly he removed a set of latex gloves, which he studiously deposited into a biohazard bin. He turned and froze. His hand slipped into a pocket

Lia froze too, detecting a sudden mass effect shield surge - clearly the doctor had activated something around himself

The Salarian squinted at the seemingly empty corridor, blinking rapidly. He began to walk towards her. Whilst he was unarmed, he was still unsettling. Lia's data banks registered him as "Solus?" as a provisional match against one of the crew records. The Salarian stopped twenty feet from Lia's cloaked position. He straightened.

"This may be a long-leap. But I believe someone is there," His voice was a whisper, his jaw tight, "For the record… had to be me. Someone else would…. Would have done this _right_. And that would have been terrible. If you are here…. I haven't much time left. I can already feel it at the edges."

He raised his hand. An omni tool flared to life. The Salarian's arm was shaking.

"The files are encrypted. Anything you find on the… the central servers will be incomplete; nonsensical. This… may help. Please. Hurry. Shut this place down. Before whatever mercies I can provide aren't enough."

Lia wireless scanned the omnitool, lifted several layers of viruses and malware from the data packets, then stored it in a sealed partition, just in case. The good Doctor seemed to be vibrating - modulations in his voice indicated "truth" but the tension and body temperature readings indicated high stress. As if he was suffering a high level of infection.

The doctor blinked and turned. Immediately Lia registered a drop in body temperature and reduction in micro-tremors. There was also a strange shift in the mass effect fields around him. The man had been maintaining a ridiculously strong shield for a moment. But now it was gone, he seemed oblivious to their presence. He began humming to himself, as if the whole encounter hadn't happened.

Slowly, Lia extracted from the room. Her wireless connectors had already accessed the surveillance units around the medical bay. What they showed would be enough to get this place reduced to ash by several Turian fleets.

* * *

Tormae looked at the vidscreen and nodded. Command had just informed him of the next steps. Necessary steps.

"You're certain of this 'Goto' connection?"

Command was very sure. It was never wrong on these things. Command remembered well the… briefings.

"Advised course of action?"

Command believed that a drastic course was required, to ensure Salarian ascension. Removal of obstacles to Salarian political supremacy. The Doctor was right. The Doctor needed data. But that was a single unit. Command believed a surgical, directed strike at two other locales would provide the balanced spread of data _and_ deliver Tormae's desired results.

"But how to penetrate that far unseen?"

Command felt Tormae would find a way. He was resourceful. This was why they had chosen him.

"And the mercenaries?"

Command believed they would be troublesome. Perhaps connected to the political impediment that Tormae wished removed. They should be dealt with to ensure security was preserved. If they weren't connected, they were just a single mercenary band no one would miss. If not, then the problem would be resolved.

Tormae nodded slowly. He shook his head, feeling woozy all of a sudden. The terminal in front of him wavered. Was it always so silvery? So… round? No. No. He'd clearly been staring at the Doctor's specimens too much. Had them on the brain - that must be it.

Command smiled. He couldn't place the face but it was a Salarian. Certainly. Command. They wanted him to supervise delivery. Ensure it was on target. He would appreciate the demonstration.

Command expected a full debrief afterwards.

Tormae turned and left his room. Again, he failed to notice the nothing above his door frame. Instead he chimed his omni-tool open. Sharanae's face filled the screen. She looked irritated, but it didn't seem directed his way.

" _Tormae. Was about to call some more dirt on this Sharrocks guy. Not a wise guy. Ex SF. One of my boys remembers him from Earth. Pally with a guy called 'Vakarian'. Name tolls a wind-chime don't it?"_

Tormae nodded. Command had been right. Of course they had. They were STG! They knew all. "Alright. They're sniffing around. Remove them."

Sharanae grinned nastily, "" _Some days I do this for the pay. Some days I do it for the job satisfaction. The Fist will deliver."_

Tormae nodded, "Excellent. If you are still keen on investing in this further, meet me on deck 3. I'm sure your maidens can prepare without supervision?"

Sharanae nodded and terminated the feed. He took the elevator and descended. As he left his deck, the door to his quarters hissed open then shut.

Deck 3 was close to the central cargo unit - a vast space, currently being used by the egg heads for their more advanced testing and conditioning drills. Tormae had seen in there once but he couldn't quite remember the contents. One of the techs had assured him it was a side effect of the testing they were doing and would pass. Frankly, he'd had worse undergoing interrogation training so he'd brushed it aside. _Maybe too quickly?_ He frowned, quashing the sudden flare of doubt in his stomach.

Sharanae was in her hover chair, already armoured up. She spun to face him as he exited the lift and glared at him, "I'm itching to go rub that little sneak's nose into some concrete. Let's get your presentation done."

"Not interested?"

"I am. But my blood's up. Hate to fight when I'm not in the mood… and I'm in the mood."

Tormae gave a sharp grin and nodded. They walked down the bare corridor to an observation room. Tormae pressed a button and the blast shield retracted, leaving a clear view of one of the test arenas on Deck 2. Deck 1 was not visible from here. Out of bounds. Above, there were the access ports to the medical pods and the "manufacturing and storage" units of the freighter.

The bay below was a blasted ruin of scorch marks and smashed target drone. Sharanae peered down and gave Tormae a quizzical look, "'s a training arena? What for?"

"The weapon of our upcoming supremacy. Observe." A series of mechs trudged into the arena. At the other end a glowing sphere was lowered via a mass effect projector. Sharanae glanced at it and Tormae smiled, "One of our remote control units. Please, watch."

He pressed a button and a similar sphere hissed from an alcove in the wall. Sharanae instinctively leaned away from it, but couldn't drag her eyes away from it "What the hell is that?"

"This is a paired unit. It links with that one down there. To use them you need to be… attuned. It allows for far more direct C&C of our new drone stock. Watch."

He gestured to the demonstration area. Hatches opened around the perimeter and hulking shapes emerged. The mechs opened fire, rounds plashing across the arena, bouncing harmlessly off of the strange figures. They moved fast, too fast for their size, closing the distance to the mechs. One of the creatures help back, firing a weapon of its own, whilst two more tore the mechs asunder.

The engagement lasted only a few seconds, before the things retreated back into their holding areas. The doors resealed. Sharanae breathed out, then turned to stare at Tormae.

"Were those the….?"

"Yes. After a fashion. We have determined that the Krogan experiment had too few safeguards. This way we can repeat the exercise but in a controlled, methodical way," Her face was part amazement, part horror. He chuckled, "Oh please. You gave up the moral highground once you resorted to kidnapping pre-spaceflight children. You're in the wilderness now, Sharanae."

She glared and him, then smiled thinly, "Fair why show me this now?"

"I'm a man of my word."

Sharanae tried to focus on tormae but her eyes kept drifting back to the sphere. He patted it gently, "Deliver on those mercs and we can see about getting you properly inducted. A command position of a unit of those? That'd help the Fists somewhat, wouldn't they?"

She nodded slowly, staring at the sphere, "Y...yeah. We'd be… be unstoppable." The asari blinked and frowned, "Feeling… fuzzy."

"Ah yes. You should go prepare. The units can… be taxing if you aren't strong enough. Even if you aren't using them directly."

She shot him a snarl, "I'm plenty strong, lizard."

"Indeed? Well we can test that properly when you return. Ensure Sharrocks and his band are not a threat. Remove them. Command will want a debrief."

Sharanae nodded and gldied out of the room, shooting a last, wistful gaze back at the strange sphere. Tormae stroked it again absently, then pressed a button which retracted the device back up an access chute. He felt a strange pang of loss, as well as a weird flush of frustration that felt like someone _elses_ emotion. But he wasn't frustrated. No.

He knew what he had to do. His omni-tool lit up again, "Jorut? Prepare an infiltrator craft. I want unit one loaded into a deployment pod and allocated. Ready to launch in two hours."

Jorut nodded uncertainty, " _Field test sir? And your pilot?"_

"It'll be me. I need to see to this personally."


End file.
